900 Miles (Book 2): 900 Minutes Read online

  A small group of intruders was easy to fight off, but we were always concerned about the time when someone picked a fight with us that we knew we wouldn’t be able to win. Kyle had led the defense preparation, and we had a whole slew of what he called“countermeasures”set up to protect our little world. The creatures collected in the Dead Shed outside the wall were just the tip of the iceberg.

  With the grass from the field starting to get shorter, we were just yards away from the tree line, split in two by a narrow road that we used to come and go. Passing by the broken-down car, I heard Jarvis let out a small sigh of relief. Completely entranced by the siren, not one creature clawing at the tree out there had so much as glanced our way.

  His celebration was a bit premature.

  A sudden but loud crack boomed from behind us. Twisting our heads back toward the cement walls, just in time to hear another go off, I heard Kyle yell,“Muzzle flash from the guard tower!”

  Spinning my head around, I manically shifted my focus from mirror to mirror while trying to push the Hummer to outpace whatever the hell God was firing at.

  “It’s the pickup…there’s two of them crawling up into the bed of the pickup!”I heard Rodgers call out.

  Another boom and a crack as I turned to see paint chipping off the rear of the truck, the shot just narrowly missing Mr. Mullet, who was on his feet kicking at one of the creatures. The Z grabbing at Mr. Mullet’s leg wore once-white baseball pants, which were now covered in enough gore to match his red baseball jersey.

  Unable to do a damn thing as the creature opened its mouth, preparing to come down hard on Mr. Mullet’s leg, I jumped in my seat as a blackish-pink mist shot out around the monster’s head, blowing a brain dripping hole the size of an orange through its face. An instant later, the delayed sound of the sniper rifle cracked in the wind.

  Hell of a home run, I thought.

  Mr. Mullet swiveled over toward the right-hand side of the truck where the second creature was pulling itself into the bed of the pickup. He had a small pistol drawn and was unloading it in the direction of the Z. Blood splatter exploded out of the creature’s torso, but between the bouncing truck and the panic in Mr. Mullet’s eyes, not one shot caught the damn thing in the head.

  Kyle grunted as he twisted his broad shoulders around in the Hummer, trying to figure out how to pull himself out the window. As he looked down at the handle to his door, I could tell what he was getting ready to do.

  Mr. Mullet had steadied himself on the turret, which was basically useless in close quarter combat, and defiantly faced off against the creature and its piercing red eyes.

  “Holy shit!”I cried out, stopping Kyle from pulling the door handle. Turning back, he followed my stupefied gaze just as one of the Three Amigos emerged from the right-hand passenger window, held tightly by one of his brothers from inside the cab.

  With his blade already drawn, I hardly saw the movement as he thrust it forward, severing one hand from the creature’s grotesque arms straight off. Blackish-red blood spit out of the stump, splashing across and around Mr. Mullet’s worn blue jeans into the bed of the truck. Then, with the grace of a surgeon, the Amigo waved his instrument of death upward toward the falling body of the creature, driving the blade deep into its skull. Kyle turned back to the front window as the creature dropped from the side of the truck like a lifeless anchor, rolling to its final resting spot hidden within the broken grass below.

  Mr. Mullet dropped to his knees, splashing up some of the gore covering the truck bed, before pulling his hands to his forehead, while the Amigos returned to their seats in the comfort of the truck…all the while never so much as tapping the brakes. Looking in the rearview mirror, I watched as Mr. Mullet pulled his trucker cap off, with his mullet gracefully flowing in the wind, and waved it toward God.

  Nothing ever went as planned outside the gate, and sadly, this wouldn’t be the last time we’d have to face off against an enemy out there.

  Moments later, the Hummer’s CB radio zipped to life with a rapid-fire string of the most intense Spanish words I can honestly say I’ve ever heard spoken. Kyle picked up the radio, looking around the cab to each of us. He let out a huff, knowing we were useless when it came to the language. Pulling the mic to his face, he said,“Yes, si. Just follow us. Si.”

  Whatever they’d said, that response seemed to quiet them down.

  In another twenty feet, I felt the tires below smooth out as we passed from the field to the overgrown, paved road. Letting out my own deep sigh of relief, I immediately saw that the path was devoid of any Zs. Plowing forward, the blood slowly returned to my knuckles as I loosened my grip on the steering wheel.

  Glancing to the dashboard, my eyes fell on the digital clock built into the navigation unit. Gritting my teeth, I knew it wouldn’t be long before that phlegm-filled cough crept into Tyler’s young lungs, and I wouldn’t be there to make it better.

  Pushing the pedal to the floor mat, listening to the Hummer’s engine roar to life, I couldn’t help but think ahead to our destination. Rodgers had better be right about it. He’d better be sure that what we needed was there.

  My son’s life depended on it.

  Chapter 7

  Seems like there really aren’t any“good”sides anymore.

  Prior to the Apocalypse, White Sulfur Springs was a fairly small town with a population of just over two thousand residents. Not rich, but far from poor, this quaint little area nestled near the border of West Virginia, and Virginia was what we now directionally called home. With Avalon resting on the edge of town, we’d spent a fair amount of time in those first months scavenging through its limited stores and going door-to-door to raid the houses and trailers that filled the landscape. I got to know the area pretty well, and aside from the Zs, I found myself thinking it would have been a nice enough place to raise Tyler.

  However, we soon found that we’d need to expand beyond our immediate area if we were going to truly bulk up on supplies, food, and medicine. The nearby town of Lewisburg wound up being far more fruitful. Not as small and quaint, but still manageable, it was home to the Greenbriar Valley Medical Center, which sadly, had long since been looted by the time our team got there all those months ago. This, too, was a nice enough town, and luckily we did find plenty of supplies in and around its boundaries.

  The good news was that during all those initial runs, we’d found a decent supply of medicine. The bad news, it all went up in smoke during the fire.

  In more recent months, we’d extended our scavenging runs to the closest major city, Roanoke, Virginia, at just eighty-one miles away. Roanoke was a sizable metropolitan area with a large population that nearly topped one hundred thousand people before the end of the world.

  It was Roanoke that first taught us that any sort of major city not completely destroyed in those initial weeks had turned out to be a hotbed for the dead. For some reason, the creatures simply stayed put, lumbering around the streets, buildings, and stores. Maybe trying to go on like they did, with some sort of primal need to consume, or maybe they just lacked in the mental ability to find their way out. Either way, we learned to avoid those high-rise tombs.

  That left us with very few options in terms of scavenging in those days. Our best bets were on hitting other small towns, or at least the outlying homes of small towns. The problem was that we’d found ourselves having to go further and further away from White Sulfur Springs, making each run that much more dangerous. With seven months since things stopped being made, manufactured, and processed…well, let’s just say it was slim pickings out there.

  Perhaps that’s why we were so open to the idea, the thought of medical supplies still being available in that so-called Safe Zone. These designated safety areas that the government set up for people to seek refuge in during the initial weeks of the outbreak had proven to be filled with supplies in past runs. Seemed that those places were overly outfitted to help fight whatever emergency they could think of…aside from the dead suddenly risin
g, of course. The ones we’d found in the past would often be untouched by the outside world. Mostly because they would still be filled to the brim with Zs, those undead watchdogs, keeping any precious supplies safe within the walls.

  Sure, we’d still have to cut through the Zs that would be roaming around inside, but these days that seemed to come with the territory. With our preparations, we had the right men and enough ammunition to bust through…at least we thought.

  I’m not saying we believed it would be easy, but we’d done it before, and it looked like we’d be doing it again.

  It was Rodgers that suggested the old middle school where he’d substituted. It had been designated as one of these Safe Zones. Near the town of Rainelle, West Virginia, the school itself was on the outskirts of town. That particular destination appealed to us because it was far enough from the city, which was pretty small, and secluded enough to be accessible without having to put up with much of a fight on our way there. We hadn’t hit it up in the past because it was pretty far away, and frankly, we had plenty of medical supplies leading up to that day.

  According to Rodgers, last he’d seen it, the middle school had chains on the doors holding an unknown number of the dead inside. This wasn’t uncommon, as I’d later find out. Evidently before the government officials bugged out they would lock the doors, telling the Safe Zone’s temporary inhabitants that they’d come back with help.

  Guess we know how that turned out for them.

  Rodgers had given us the address to the old school, and our navigation was set with a course that told us it was forty-two miles away. As we drove through the overgrown landscape, he seemed to know the course, calling out landmarks as we went along.

  Trying to avoid the dead on the trek out there was nearly impossible. However, most of them were now slow and simply staggered along. As the dead aged, their bodies continued to deteriorate. The Zs that had been around since the beginning were always easy to spot. Those monsters seemed to be decomposing from the inside out. They’d often be missing most of their skin, with only tight muscle tissue holding them together under whatever ratty clothing would be hanging loosely on their bodies. On the flip side of that coin, if we ever saw faster Zs, showing fewer signs of decomposition, we always knew that some poor bastards had just been overrun.

  There was much speculation about why the creatures appeared faster when they were fresh. They weren’t exactly Carl Lewis, but hell, they seemed pretty fucking fast when they charged at you displaying a mouth full of pearly whites.

  To some, they might almost seem stronger than they were when they were human. My opinion at this point is that humans have limits set by their minds. The brain won’t let someone run too long without a break. The mind won’t let you lift something that it knows you shouldn’t. These things…these creatures were devoid of thought. Their minds were gone, and with the absence of limits, a body had the natural ability to push itself harder and faster.

  Either way, we tried like hell to avoid anything with more than a hobbled limp while outside the walls. If any of them saw you, slow or fast, they would be sure to follow you until their last step. We didn’t need that kind of trouble.

  Letting my mind drift as we passed a creature pulling itself along the road on all fours, my attention was drawn to our surroundings and how much they’d changed. I couldn’t help but realize that the world outside of Avalon had been taken back by Mother Earth. Grass was growing up the sides of the houses it had once pristinely sat around. Trees, once trim and beautiful alongside the roads, now grew across the sky, blocking the clouds…and the sunlight. Everything seemed darker.

  Perfect atmosphere to scare the shit out of anyone, day or night.

  The roads were covered in dirt and moss. It was getting harder and harder to see them each time we left the compound. I found myself thinking about the fact that it wouldn’t be too long before that bitch, Mother Earth, would swallow this area whole, much like shaking an Etch A Sketch, erasing all that man had built. Would there be any part of modern society that survived? Surely, some part of the world still existed like it used to.

  Breaking the silence, and my concentration, I nearly veered off the road when the CB radio squelched to life before a woman’s voice spoke.

  “Iron Eagle, Iron Eagle, this is King’s Landing, you out there? Over.”

  I recognized the voice. So did Kyle. He looked over at me with a smirk across his face while picking up the microphone.

  “Hey baby, yeah, I’m here.”

  Her name was Mia. She’d also fought alongside Kyle and me in the Arena. Thinking back to the battle that fateful day, there was a spark that had been lit between the two of them. I remember seeing what I can only describe as an under the surface sync they shared while destroying wave after wave of the Zs. A natural connection, the hardest in life to find. I’ve often thought that, in this world, maybe that’s how true warriors fall in love…in the heat of battle.

  Something about the arena, the end of the world, or maybe just loneliness pulled them together. The way Kyle’s eyes lit up when she walked into the room told me how he really felt about her…no matter whether he’d admit it to me or even himself.

  “I’ll be here by the radio, making sure we keep solid contact,”Mia said.

  “Is that all you radioed to tell me?”Kyle said, still smirking.

  When she didn’t respond immediately, Kyle's face grew more serious as he realized that wasn’t the response she was looking for.

  “Listen, we’ll be back by sundown. I don’t think you’ll even know I’m gone,”he quickly continued. He knew that was bullshit. She had that same look in her eyes when they were together.

  “Well, get that ass of yours back here safe.”

  At this, Kyle smiled and simply replied,“Will do, Mia. You can count on it.”

  She then turned her attention to me.“John, you better not let anything happen to that man. No heroic chances…”

  The Hummer’s wheels jounced up and down as we ran through a pothole, shaking us back and forth in the truck before Kyle held the mic toward my face.“You can count on it. This is an easy run. We’ll be back before you know it,”I tried to say confidently, knowing I was lying through my teeth.

  “Sure…these runs are always no problem,”she replied with a notable hint of sarcasm.

  Changing the subject, I asked,“Is everything cleared up from the fire? Any new revelations about how it started?”

  “We have a team on it now. The fridge causing the fire is still the ongoing theory. I’ll radio when we know more. Over.”

  “OK, thanks Mia. Can you do me a favor and check in on Tyler from time to time? I’m sure Deanna could use the company, and I’d like to know if anything has changed with his health.”

  “No problem, John. I’d be happy to check in on that little munchkin.”

  Turning her attention back to Kyle, she spoke once more.“I’m not kidding, Kyle. Get your ass back here by sundown, or I’ll be coming out after you.”

  “We have to be back soon, no other option. I’ll be seeing you when we return. Over and out,”Kyle responded.

  Then the radio went silent.

  Rolling over another small tree limb that had fallen across the road, we all bumped up and down in the truck. Jarvis pulled his head away from the window and looked up front toward Kyle and me.“We gotta watch out for people out here, boys. I can’t shake that feeling I got from the Jeep yesterday. Let’s stay sharp. I don’t think they’re one of the good guys, if you know what I mean.”

  Fun time was over.

  Rodgers shifted his shoulders toward Jarvis, raising his eyebrows before asking,“Who are the good guys, really? Are we the good guys?”

  Every once in a while, Rodgers liked to let out his inner teacher. He’d challenge those around him, as if he were speaking to his students, with some sort of provocative topic that always got you thinking. The discussions would always be a reminder that there was more to his brute ready for battle external deme
anor than met the naked eye.

  Resting an arm on the seat in front of him, and turning to Rodgers, Jarvis responded,“I like to think so. We help people; we protect Avalon.”He was noticeably taken back by the question.

  “Yeah, but are we the good guys? Who’s to say we’re good, and others are bad,”Rodgers countered.“I mean, in the end, history is always written by the victor. Doesn’t matter if he was right or wrong.”

  “I don’t follow what you mean,”Kyle chimed in.

  “Well, we’re all out here trying to survive. Doesn’t everybody feel like they’re on the‘good side’? I’m just saying, I’ll bet there are a bunch of little communities out there that all think they’re the good guys.”

  “That may be true, Rodgers,”Jarvis said while looking back out the window.“I can say one thing though, if you’re on our side, you’re not trying to take from others. We’ve had so many people who show up on our doorstep trying to take from us. Are we bad because we don’t let them?”

  Rodgers simply replied,“Don’t know, Jarvis, seems like there really aren’t any‘good’sides anymore.”

  Looking back at that conversation, he may have been right.

  Chapter 8

  My first instincts were that this was a lucky break.

  We made quick work of the forty-two miles between Avalon and our final destination, and before we knew it, the overgrown walls of the elementary school were in sight. Driving around a dry and brittle rotten tree that had collapsed across what was left of the road leading up to the school, we put the Hummer into four-wheel drive to pull ourselves up the winding path.

  I could hear the pickup behind us shifting into gear just as we came into the parking lot in front of the school. Quickly surveying the area, we saw a handful of creatures stumbling through tall, flourishing weeds that had managed to sprout from between the cracks of the unkempt black pavement.