Down the Road: The Fall of Austin (18 page)

Her intuition was confirmed when a zombie
slammed up against her driver-side window. It stained the tinted
glass with blood from a mouth still gnawing on the gristle of some
unfortunate Austinite.

Keri screamed and gunned the engine in a
panic, turning into the median and ramming into the concrete
barrier.

Two men ran up to the vehicle and jumped the
zombie, clubbing it to its true death with lead pipes. Though she
saw the bright orange outfits, she did not register that they were
once incarcerated criminals. She assumed they were actually going
to try to help her.

But once the zombie was motionless, the men
opened Keri’s door and pulled her out. She tried to find something
to grab hold of, but couldn’t.

One of the men forced her down to the grass
and held her flat on her back by outstretching her arms and pinning
her wrists. The other man fell to his knees in front of her,
forcing her legs apart and putting himself between them. His hands
hastily probed under her skirt. He grabbed her underwear at the
sides and yanked them halfway down her thighs.

Keri flailed in furious defiance. The man
smirked.

When he sat up on his knees to unzip his
suit, Keri used the opportunity to strike him square on the jaw
with an informal upkick. The man clasped his chin and swooned
dizzily. The heel of her boot had penetrated the vulnerable skin on
the underside of his jaw and blood was pouring from the hole and
seeping through his fingers.

Twisting herself in the grip of the man who
still held her wrists down on the ground, she smacked him in the
face with the full brunt of her forehead. Bone cracked and
cartilage shifted in the man’s nose, spitting blood from both his
nasal passages.

The two adversaries fell backward, dazed.

Keri was the first to regain her footing.
Knowing her vehicle was immobilized and realizing crying out for
help was a joke worthy of a good belly laugh, she jumped the
concrete barrier and took her chances crossing IH-35 south. An
apartment complex was just ahead. She thought she might be able to
find some real help there. And with her headbutted assailant now in
hot pursuit, she was metaphorically crossing her fingers and toes
she was right.

When Keri reached the apartment complex she
immediately began screaming for help like a banshee on crack that
needed another fix.

Leaning on the third floor landing, having
tossed the executed body over the railing, the body he had only
moments ago tazed, then blasted, Mike Runyard heard the cry.

“Are you kidding me?” he whispered to
himself, regretting his cosmic selection as white knight for a
day.

Mike shucked the empty shotgun shell from the
rifle, securing a live shell in the chamber. He stood looking over
the railing, waiting for the screaming spirit to arrive.

Keri looked over her shoulder. The
orange-clad man was fast and was gaining on her, having cut at
least a third of the distance on the pursuit.

Keri came into Mike’s view and he cried out
to her, “Up here!”

Without hesitation she dashed toward the
stairs, only briefly acknowledging the two dead bodies on the
sidewalk.

Mike, in an attempt to ambush her pursuer,
hobbled painfully back to his room.

Keri took the steps two at a time. As she
reached the second floor landing, the aspiring rapist came into
view. Her yelp of fear gave away her position before her movement
did, and the man followed her as she hit the steps to the third
floor.

Keri found the open door and dashed in. She
saw the uniformed police officer—Mike Runyard—and demanded, “Kill
that man!”

Mike hesitated. He thought he could stun him
with the tazer, using the same tactic he had used earlier on
another escaped convict, surprising him with the bolts of
electricity as soon as he entered the apartment. But Mike didn’t
want a bloody mess in his hideout.

Sensing his hesitation, Keri asserted herself
and snatched the shotgun and went back out the door, leaving Mike
standing there with a blank look on his face. Without her even
acknowledging it, every ounce of her being had decided she was
going to fight back.

The ex-con had just cleared the third floor
steps and was negotiating the massive blood blotch on the landing.
In doing so, he lost that one crucial moment that might have given
him a chance to counter Keri’s swift exit out of Mike’s base.
Instead of dodging the assault, the man absorbed the subsequent
blasts that tore out his throat and removed a section of his jaw.
Round balls of solid lead punched through the brain tissue at the
top of the spine, killing the ex-con with a merciless finality.

Keri made one final statement: shucking the
empty shell, replacing it with a live one. She pulled the trigger
one more time, busting the dead man’s head like a mortar round
exploding in the black summer night of a Fourth of July
celebration.

Mike, having been witness to the entire
scene, muttered, “Holy shit.”

Keri turned, reentered the apartment, slammed
the door, and locked it. She leaned up against the door, trembling.
The vision of the man’s head exploding began to bruise her soul and
kick her conscience. It was stamped into her brain. She tried to
close her eyes in a futile effort to erase the image, but her
actions were scarring her permanently. Her desperate measures used
for survival knocked a large chunk out of her soul, altering her
reality. She whispered with guilt,
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m
sorry,”
before sliding down the door to her bottom and crying
uncontrollably.

Seeing the symptoms of shock, Mike shuffled
to the bedroom. He pulled the comforter off the twin bed and
returned to the living room with it, and placed it on Keri. She
quickly pulled it in and snuggled with it, still weeping.

Scooting near her, Mike offered a hand.

Keri gladly accepted it.

2:29 PM

Texas State Capitol

The news of United Nations uniform patches
did not sit well with the remaining members of Fireteam Arnold.
When they awoke from their hard-earned sleep, Sgt. Arnold explained
to his charges the choice given by Cpt. Barrigan. Spc. Noble hated
the idea, and openly and vehemently made her opinion known.

“America is a sovereign nation,” she said. “I
refuse to be commanded by a U.S. Army that is under foreign
control.”

Spc. Knight, on the other hand, had no
problem with it.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he said.
“We’re working for the U.S. military. If the leaders feel it would
be advantageous for us to coordinate with the U.N., so what? Why is
the U.S. a member anyway if we’re concerned about sovereignty?”

Despite Noble’s assertion that some members
of the U.N. had been involved in corruption, clandestine
operations, and war crimes, Knight suggested that the U.N. had done
just as many good things for people around the world.

“So name one thing,” Noble challenged
assertively, but within the boundaries of manners.

“Shit, Noble, you know I can’t name shit,
but—”

“Exactly,” she fired back with assurance.

“Yeah, but if we’re talking war crimes and
people under the U.S. flag doing dumb shit, then the finger can be
pointed right back at us. Those jackasses at Abu Ghraib, the
fuckin’ mercs running roughshod over Iraq, the guy tossing that dog
over the cliff, and all that other dumb shit pretty much fucked up
our image as a nation of good people.”

“The bad apple,” Sgt. Arnold observed. “One
bad apple fucks up the rest of the batch.”

Noble came back. “Yeah, but that was
those
fucks. And the people responsible got in trouble for
it. It wasn’t us.”

“You’re right,” Knight said. “But when we
throw these fatigues on, we all represent the same thing. Like the
Sarge said, one bad apple fucks up the rest.”

“So what are you sayin’?” Noble asked,
irritated. “You’re not with us?”

Knight was just as irritated, but wanted to
close the conversation by making things clear. “Let me stop all
this nonsense right now. Yes, the U.N. sucks. But they’ve done good
for people. Yes, the U.S. is great, but dumbasses in uniform have
made us collectively look bad. My bottom line is this: My
allegiance lies with you, Sgt. Arnold. I’ll follow you to the ends
of the earth and back again, sir, if you told me to. You’ve treated
me better than anyone ever has in my life, and I thank you.
Sir.”

The spirit in the tent relaxed, recharged.
The morale shifted in a positive direction.

“So what’s the plan?” Noble asked.

Sgt. Arnold measured the question. “Well, we
have a lot of choices, really. We can swallow our pride and iron
the patches on now...”

Noble shook her head while Knight sat
steady.

“Or we can refuse the command and get
court-martialed...”

No one liked that idea.

“Or we can refuse and go AWOL, which is just
dumb.” The men shook their head in agreement. Noble pursed her
mouth as if to say the comment was true. But the Sergeant
continued, “But considering the state of the world at the moment, I
get the feeling we’re not going to be the only ones on that
list.”

“Say we
were
to jump ship, where would
we go?” Knight asked.

“I don’t know,” Sgt. Arnold replied.

The trio sat quietly, contemplating their
choices.

“I have some family in Houston,” Noble
suggested. “Second cousin, I think.”

“Yeah, and I have family in San Uvalde,” Sgt.
Arnold said. “It might as well be the moon.”

“Well, what lies between here and those
cities?” Knight asked.

“San Marcos, New Braunfels, San Antonio,”
Sgt. Arnold said, referring to the path of IH-35 to San Uvalde.
“Hell, those cities alone would present huge problems.”

“But between here and Houston are a stack of
small towns and countryside. I don’t think it would get bad until
we got to Houston proper, you know?” Noble said.

“I know this sounds stupid, but what about
the airport?” Knight asked.

“Knight, that solution would be just badass,”
Sgt. Arnold said, “if only we knew how to fly passenger liners.
Anyone?”

The two charges shook their heads.

“I think we can get to Highway 21 from 183,”
Noble said. “But should we hit it going east from here or through
Niederwald before Buda and Koehl?”

Sgt. Arnold was surprised at Noble’s mental
acumen. “How the hell do you know about highways in Texas? You’re
from Seattle!”

“Saw a Texas map before we came here. Just
wanted to get familiar with the state. My mind just works that way.
Good with numbers, too.”

“Well, shit, Noble. A soldier with
initiative. All right then, let’s hear it. What do you think we
should do?”

“I think going east would not be good because
we’d be hitting neighborhoods filled with people, alive or viral.
That would be bad. Lots of congestion and CCTV cams. But if we were
to just hit 35 south, we’d just have to deal with people in their
cars.”

“I think staying on foot until we get to
south Austin would be wise, seeing as how we don’t know about
traffic and CCTV cams,” Knight said.

“Traffic in Austin has always been the
world’s shittiest,” Sgt. Arnold said. He took a moment to measure
the suggestions. “Well, when it comes to plans, it’s not the
greatest. We’ve got enough ammo to last us a while if we don’t get
into any heavy shit. Our food, on the other hand, not so great. But
we can get water easy.” He thought once more. “Okay, here’s the
deal:
We’re running
.”

A visible sign of surprise hit both Noble and
Knight at the same time. Noble’s eyes widened. Knight gulped. They
continued to listen.

“We need to stock up, grab some fresh water,
and stroll out of here. We’ll go straight down Congress, cross the
bridge, then go down Riverside before hitting 35 south. When we get
to William Cannon or Slaughter, we’ll find a vehicle and listen to
Miss Mapquest over here.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sergeant,” Noble
said with a smile.

“Well, it was only the route we took to get
here. Just trying to keep it familiar.” He grinned. “All right, we
good?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” came the bold replies.

“Then we move out at zero hundred, gang. Get
ready.”

11:01 PM

South Point Apartments

It was not the safest hiding place. There was
a window directly next to the bed and a sliding glass door in the
living room that exposed the apartment to anyone—and
any
thing
—that could be standing on the third story landing.
Even so, it was the best Keri Lawrence and Mike Runyard could do
under the current circumstances.

Once they settled in and decided they were
safe for the time being, Keri bandaged Mike’s ankles and soothed
the swelling with ice bags, and checked them regularly throughout
the day. Since the scrapes on his arms were of the non-infectious
variety, (not caused by gnashing teeth,) she felt safe to treat
them normally and apply longer-lasting bandages.

She prepared a very late lunch with the
abandoned food in the apartment. She figured they could last over
the next few days if they needed to. At this point there were no
threats immediately outside their apartment. They could hear the
occasional ghostly moan of the walking dead, and sometimes car
horns, sirens, or a scream.

Mike wasn’t able to fit into any of the
clothes left behind by the previous tenant. It was apparent he was
a bachelor and had a much smaller frame than Mike did. Mike had
half-heartedly scoured around the bedroom and closets to try to
find something that would reveal the owner’s identity, if only so
maybe one day Mike could track him down and thank him and explain
the circumstances of him using his apartment, but the forever
nameless, faceless man had left no clear indications of who he
might be.