Into the Badlands (6 page)

They saw no more carriers the rest of that day, aside from the usual bodies that littered the streets. The sun was brightest around midday and they almost felt warm then. By the evening, however, the light and the heat was beginning to wane; it was going to be another cold night. Dave remembered when he could watch the six o'clock news to know what to expect from the weather; now he had to do it the old-fashioned way. Most often that meant just waking up and seeing what the day brought.

They walked for hours with virtually no conversation. Sometimes Dave wondered why they continued to walk at all. He often considered holing up inside of a house and just staking claim there. That would definitely reduce some of their risks. Eventually their supplies would run out though, and they'd have to venture out again. At least while traveling they could always find new sources of food and water, even shelter when they needed it.

He also supposed that it did Sandy some good to keep moving. It gave her a goal, something to work toward, and made her feel less overwhelmed by their plight. Staying in one place meant accepting their inevitable doom; moving allowed her to continue believing otherwise. She'd had a tough enough time dealing with life even before the world had come to an end.

He wasn't sure about Jim. Jim followed. He didn't say much, and he didn't want to lead. He was good to have around; he came through when needed. He also had a way of calming Sandy down, and what appeared to be a immeasurable amount of patience. That was a quality Dave didn't always exemplify.

He thought about the family they'd passed earlier in the day; he supposed that Jim was a part of their family now. They surely all relied upon each other now like family. He wondered if maybe he should have invited them along; after all there was strength in numbers.

Suddenly, two men appeared from behind one of the houses. They placed themselves in front of Dave and his companions, blocking their way.

In their hands they held pistols.

CHAPTER 6

Trish froze when she heard the sound of her remaining captors returning. She stared at the door to the room, listening to the sounds getting louder, unsure of what to do next. Her stomach felt as though it was twisting into knots and she felt even sicker than she already did. She had to think fast if she was to have any chance of making it out alive.

Darnell was big, much bigger than she. She also knew he still had his strength. She didn't. The other guy was a toss up; she never really saw him during any of her lucid periods. She had to assume he was stronger than her too. There wasn't time to make much of a plan; she decided she would just have to move quickly and be ready when the time came.

She gently sat the pillowcase of food down on the floor, then quietly moved behind the door. She hoped she could ambush them with the knife from behind. If she could cut Darnell’s throat with the knife maybe she could stab the other one before he knew what was happening. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all she had. She just felt so weak; she wished she still had her gun. Unfortunately that was a lost cause.

She looked at Trey's body lying on the floor, his blood pooled around it. Her spirits, already plummeting with doubt, dropped further. Once the other two caught sight of it she’d lose the element of surprise. She rushed over to the body, put down the knife, and then attempted to drag Trey's bloody remains out of sight.

Although Trey's body was light Trish was very weak, and moving him proved incredibly difficult. She kept slipping in his blood each time she tried to get a foothold. She was making only inches of progress and the footsteps on the other side of the door were getting louder. She quickly abandoned that plan; it was time for another one, for better or worse.

She searched the wall and found a coat hanging on a hook. She pulled it off the hook and laid it on Trey's body. It covered his upper body, but left his legs exposed. It would have to be good enough; she was out of time. She picked up the knife, then walked quickly to the chair where Trey had done his most diligent fingernail work and blew out the lantern. As soon as the light went out the door to the room opened. She didn’t have time to hide behind it now, so she backed into the shadows and stood very still. She clutched the knife tightly in her hand, butterflies racing through her stomach.

Darnell paused after he opened the door, peering into the darkened room.

“Trey!” he called. He repeated the call. “Trey! Where the fuck you at?”

He entered slowly and walked carefully across the room, navigating the near-darkness. He made it to the lantern, then pulled out a match from a matchbook in his shirt pocket. He struck it, then touched the flame to the wick. The flame rose, burned brightly, then leveled out. He blew out the match, then held the lantern up to get a better look around the room.

Trey’s covered body caught his attention, but he couldn't immediately identify what it was. He leaned forward in an attempt to get a better look. Once the light of the lantern fell upon the dark shape he noticed Trey’s legs protruding from underneath the coat. His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to call out.

Trish struck before he could get any words out. She lunged forward with what little strength she still had left and stabbed at his face. Though surprised, Darnell was quick enough to deflect the knife. A split-second later and the knife would have gone through his eye socket and into his brain.

His reflexes, however fast they were, weren't fast enough to avoid the blade completely. It continued its trajectory, slicing his left eye open like the belly of a fish. He felt warm liquid run down his face as the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life took hold of his eye. He dropped the lantern, screaming at the top of his lungs as his eye dripped. The flame was extinguished when the lantern hit the floor, and the room instantly became dark, lit only by the light trickling in through the open door.

Trish saw her moment and darted toward the door. She was almost through when she was violently yanked backward by her hair. Even with his eye ruined, Darnell wasn't going to let her get away easily. She hit the ground hard, but she somehow managed to hold on to the knife. Pain radiated through her body as she struck the concrete floor. She rolled to her stomach then forced herself to her hands and knees as quickly as she could. It took all of her effort, but she managed.

“YOU WHORE!” Darnell screamed as he stood over her. His left hand desperately covered his damaged eye, but he managed to raise his right arm and deliver a smashing blow to her head. She gripped tightly onto the handle of the knife and plunged it deep into his foot, just as his fist connected. The blade went through his foot, stopping only when it hit the concrete floor. He screamed again, now in even more agony than before. She left the knife in his foot, then scrambled to her feet, fighting disorientation and nausea in order to remain standing.

A huge fist landed on the small of her back as she attempted to run away, sending dull pain all the way down to her toes. That blow, combined with the blow to her head, made her feel as if she’d been struck with a sledge hammer. Even injured Darnell was still incredibly strong. She fell to the floor once again. She pulled herself back up to her knees, then crawled through the door and into a long hallway. She barely noticed she was crying.

Once through the door she rose to her feet as quickly as she could. She stumbled and fell into a wall, then righted herself. She suddenly found herself in a long, narrow hallway. The walls spun around her for a second, then stopped moving. Once upright and balanced she ran as fast as she could away from the room and from Darnell. She didn't look back.

Darnell continued to scream from the room, as he pulled the knife from his foot. She didn't listen to see if the third kidnapper was in the building. She didn't stop to see if Tim's class ring was anywhere to be found. She didn't stop for her pillowcase of food. She didn’t look for her gun. She simply ran, bleeding from her head, leaving tiny red droplets behind as she did.

She ran through the hallway toward the first door she could find. She made it through the door and into a large loading area of what appeared to be a warehouse. Bright sunlight shone through the high windows forcing her to squint to see. She looked quickly around for an escape route. To her left were loading docks, to her right were storage shelves. Then she found what she was looking for: a door leading to the outside. A non-functioning EXIT sign was mounted above it, with bright, white sunlight spilling through a wire-reinforced window within the door. Freedom was less than a hundred feet away.

“YOU FUCKING CUNT! I'M GONNA RIP YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!” Darnell screamed from behind her. She ran across the warehouse floor as fast as she could, hobbling and limping, then slammed her battered and bruised body into the exit door. It didn't budge. It took a second or two for her to realize she’d just missed the panic bar. She pushed it hard with her hips. It opened.

Halfway through the door she turned around to see the large black man right behind her, his missing beret revealing a shortly-cropped afro growing around a large, visible scar. His hand still covered his damaged left eye. Blood ran between his fingers and down his arm, dripping onto the floor as he ran.

Without thinking she slammed the door as hard as she could, just as he came through the doorway. It struck him squarely in the face, driving two of his fingers into his already wasted eye. He fell to the floor, kicking and flailing wildly as his eye continued to gush blood.

Trish wasted no time; she turned and she ran into the icy air, her eyes slowly adjusting to the bright sunlight. As she ran, the screaming behind her began to fade away. It was only then she noticed she was crying. She thought of Tim, and how proud he would have been to know how hard she'd fought to live.

Once she’d gotten far enough away to feel relatively safe she slowed her hobbled running to a walk. The icy air bit into her lungs and she developed a stitch in her side that wouldn't go away. Her body ached all over, and she found it difficult to even breathe.

Despite being able to see well in the sunlight, she wasn’t exactly sure where she was. Most of the snow was gone; melted away while she had been held captive. She couldn’t see the Howard Johnson’s where she’d been kidnapped, but she did find the highway.

She walked along residential streets, parallel to the highway. She kept it in sight in order to keep her bearings; at least that provided her something to navigate by. She walked around the bodies on the ground, some decomposed so badly it was difficult to make out what they even were.

Up ahead, about a quarter mile away by her estimates, she saw some large buildings. They appeared to be stores, all located within what had once been a strip mall. She saw a large building that appeared to be a Wal-mart or possibly a Target store; the sign long since destroyed to the point of being unreadable.

If she could make it there she might be able to get supplies, at least some water. It was a long walk though, and every step she took was agonizing. Her entire body was wracked with excruciating pain. She'd never been more thirsty in her entire life.

She continually looked behind her as she walked, afraid that Darnell or the other unseen kidnapper would be there, ready to finish the job they'd started. She reminded herself that Trey was dead, and she could reasonably assume that Darnell was probably dead too. The third kidnapper was a mystery; she just hoped she had enough of a lead that he'd never be able to find her.

All she had left was to keep walking.

So she walked, slowly and painfully, treating each step as a small victory.

One step at a time
, she told herself.
One step at a time
.

CHAPTER 7

Ed Brady stood between two abandoned cars on a desolate highway, watching his children sleep peacefully beside a dwindling fire. He had gotten a few hours of sleep while Zach and Jeremy relieved him of guard duty, but it seemed he rarely slept anymore. Even when he did sleep he never slept soundly.

He still had concerns about the carrier blood back at the store. The goggles had stopped most of it, the mask seemed to have stopped the rest. Just a droplet of blood in an exposed area and it was all over. Even a sneeze could be deadly. The fact that he and the boys hadn't been infected already surprised him. It seemed as if they were exceptionally lucky; plus the masks, goggles and other gear seemed to be protecting them so far. Wearing their gear was a nothing short of habit for them now.

Especially after Sarah.

Back at the sporting goods store Ed had been able to kill the carrier without using the pistol. Blood spatter from the strike of the baseball bat was dangerous, but not as dangerous as being cornered by twenty deadwalkers responding to the sound of shots fired. It was also a stroke of magnificent luck that the thing had been alone.

Ed continued watching his children sleep. They slept quietly and peacefully, as if the world hadn't fallen apart at all. It was likely they were all chasing a pipe dream; the world had changed and the cities were gone now. For a quarter million years humans had survived as nomads, farmers, herders, and hunters. They became enlightened, and for a galactic millisecond they formed cities and molded the world in their image.

Now those cities were gone. Only empty buildings remained, standing like ghostly sentinels, towering reminders of all that had been lost.

He wondered what he would do once they got to the city. How would the boys take it if they found the place overrun with the pitiful remnants of a nearly extinct species? What if they found it was just like everywhere else they'd been? Would their spirits be broken, or would it then be off to another promised land, along another dangerous road, constantly on the run like prey animals? How long could they expect to keep that up? How long before their luck ran out?

He put his hand in his front pocket, his fingers making out the painfully familiar shape of the clip holding those three terrible bullets.

Things would have to get much worse before it came to that.

He noticed Jeremy stir, followed shortly thereafter by his brother. Their eyes opened. Both boys had green eyes, like their mother.

“Hi, daddy,” Jeremy said. Zach smiled.

Ed's already broken heart broke again. How many times more could he live through that pain?

As many times as it takes
, he thought.

The cold held out for another week. Ed and the boys kept traveling, building camps and fires each night, usually between stranded cars on the defunct highway. It was too cold to just stay in the cars without some source of heat. They saw no visible signs of carriers along the way; that was one of the fortunate things about traveling in the more remote areas of the highway.

As the temperatures eventually began to rise and the snow began to melt, their sled became more difficult to pull. Once they'd exhausted most of the supplies it contained they stuffed the remaining items into their backpacks. They then abandoned the sled alongside the road, leaving it to lie silently among the useless cars and blackened corpses.

A day after they dumped the sled they saw another highway exit come into view. Ed felt both hope and trepidation; the exits provided stores and houses that might still have some useful items, but it also meant they could run into more of the infected. They all still vied for the same resources after all. A week without any carrier interaction couldn't allow them to let their guard down.

They spoke very little as they walked. Most of their time was spent on alert. Carriers, thieves, and wild animals were very real threats. It was a lawless, cruel, and indifferent world now. Only the careful and the clever survived.

Just before arriving at the exit they stopped to regroup. After a cursory check of their surroundings they inventoried their supplies. Ed removed everything from their backpacks and arranged it on the ground while Zach and Jeremy kept watch. He took a mental note of their supplies, then repacked everything into their backpacks, placing their most-used items on top. He worked quickly; should they have to make a quick getaway he didn’t want to have to leave anything temporarily unpacked behind.

Ed and Zach carried two 9mm pistols they’d found a couple years earlier. They had a few boxes of ammunition; these they coveted. They ended up picking up a couple more handguns along the way, but none of them had had any ammunition. They took them anyway, just in case. With rampant runs on every gun store during the outbreak, both guns and ammunition were hard to come by.

Most of the guns taken during panicked raids had ended up in houses for defense against an unstoppable enemy. Ironically those same houses very often sheltered carriers now. A lot of those houses were also now exposed to the elements, with broken windows, open doors, and rotting roofs. Rust was taking its toll on what weapons were left.

Their biggest problem wasn't so much a lack of guns, it was more a lack of ammunition. Most of the uninfected who'd gotten their hands on a firearm quickly exhausted their supply. There were so many infected at the beginning of the pandemic that there just weren't enough bullets to put them all down. Many survivors had saved the last bullet for themselves; others had not. Their end was much more grisly.

Ed and Zach carried the loaded pistols, but Jeremy had none. He needed one, and it was one of their top priorities to find one. It was proving more difficult than Ed had foreseen. He’d never thought that in America he’d have trouble finding a gun. More cruel irony.

After repacking their backpacks, the three of them then sat down in the middle of the road and ate some beef jerky, drinking water from their canteens. Before the outbreak Ed hadn't owned a canteen, or a flint, or even a knife, for that matter. They'd never survive without those things now.

They ate enough to survive, but there was always more than enough hunger to go around. They were all incredibly thin but not quite starving...yet. If they didn't find some food soon it wouldn't be long until they were. They were always on the verge, it seemed. They had to do some scavenging off this exit because Ed wasn't sure how long until the next one. They could calculate miles by the map, but the time it took to actually walk those miles was difficult to estimate.

There were other things they needed; boots, coats, pants, and socks, to name a few. They needed to find a department store, if possible, or maybe another sporting goods store. Ed stood up, then gazed at the multitude of buildings off the exit to determine their options. He saw a somewhat dilapidated Target department store that might be able to provide some of what they needed, provided it hadn't already been cleaned out.

Ed also saw a grocery store, some gas stations, some fast food restaurants, and some other stores he couldn't easily identify. The grocery store might still have some canned goods left and the restaurants might have some packaged food they could take along with them.

Some of the buildings looked very run down; it was likely that they'd been raided or had just succumbed to the elements after several years of neglect. Nature worked quickly and efficiently on Man's empire, retaking the land stolen from Her with ferocious intensity. Behind the commercial buildings were rows of residential area, subdivisions with hundreds upon hundreds of houses. Houses were dangerous, but a last-ditch option if the stores didn't play out. Given that, the Target store seemed to be the best place to start. One-stop shopping made even more sense now.

Ed looked back at the boys. They were both sitting on the ground in their mismatched winter garb, arms folded, waiting for their instructions. He smiled to help alleviate their fear. They smiled back, and Ed was struck by just how lucky he was to have them.

“Let's go.”

Ed felt his stomach tighten into a knot as they walked down the exit ramp toward the strip mall, dodging abandoned cars and bodies along the way. Visibility was good; the undergrowth was dormant due to the cold weather, but once summer came it would take off like wildfire. He wondered briefly how many years it would take for the road to disappear completely back into the wild.

The Target sat at the back of a large parking lot. The lot was only half-full of cars. They were all parked haphazardly in the lot, many with their doors and trunks still open. They walked through a four-way intersection toward the store; the unlit stoplight swung back and forth in the cold breeze. Road signs squeaked as they moved in the wind.

Ed and Zach drew their pistols and walked along either side of Jeremy. Jeremy carried the machete. They had their goggles, masks, and gloves on, as usual. They walked slowly and carefully toward the building, looking everywhere for movement.

Ed wasn't comfortable being so open and exposed in carrier-friendly locations; if they were attacked they'd likely have to use their guns. That would only attract more. There was nowhere to hide; they needed to get in and out as quickly as possible.

As they crossed the Target parking lot they passed scores of bones and darkened lumps that had once been human beings. They skirted these without much thought and continued walking steadily. Ed hated that the boys had to see things in such a disastrous state. They had seen so many dead bodies that they barely noticed anymore. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful for that or disturbed by it. Truth was, he was a little of both.

When they arrived at the front doors Ed stopped the boys. The glass in the doors was broken; the place looked as if it had been raided hard. Chances were there was little left behind. Still, little was better than nothing.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” he told them. They nodded, their eyes glowing green through the lenses of the goggles.

Ed peered into the store through the broken windows. Aisles were ransacked, trash and other debris littered the floor. The weather seemed to have only gotten in just past the broken doors, so Ed hoped much of whatever was left behind would be in reasonably good shape.

They adjusted their goggles and masks to ensure they were properly seated. Ed chambered his first round, Zach did the same, then he took the lead. The boys fell in behind him as they entered the store one after the other. The door creaked when Ed pushed it open, but it otherwise opened without issue.

Once inside he glanced left, then right. On both sides were scores of blackened, desiccated bodies. Many were lying down, others were sitting with their backs against the wall. Sitting just as they'd died, their darkened skin clinging tightly to their skulls. Many were partially eaten, either by wild animals or by carriers. Or by both.

“Ignore the bodies,” he told the boys. They nodded, but he saw their eyes dart to and from the bodies as they walked. Those images would stay with them their whole lives.

Much of the store had been raided, but they were still able to find some things they needed. They picked up some light and compact food such as beef jerky, potato chips, and some chocolate bars. They compacted the chips by opening the bags, crushing the chips, then rolling the bags up tightly. They also found some cans of tuna, sardines, and spam along with two jars of pickles. The glass jars could be useful after they consumed the pickles. It wasn't as much as Ed had hoped, but it was better than nothing.

The floors were lined with the empty packages of supplies opened by survivors who'd used the building for shelter. No doubt many had holed up in large department stores shortly after the infection began to spread. Others had used the place as a rest stop on their way to the coasts. And many others, as was evidenced by the multitude of of decaying bodies near the entrance, had simply come there to die.

Despite the food aisles being mostly picked over, they made out well enough to get them to the next exit at least. There they might find nothing, as was often the case. That they'd have to deal with then. He held out hope though. He had to; he had little choice otherwise.

They moved on to the clothing aisles, but found only a single boot in Jeremy's size. There were some coats left over, and Zach was able to replace one of his outer layer coats with a new one. It was covered with dust, but otherwise in good shape. Zach discarded his old, worn-out coat, then Ed ripped the tags from the new coat and placed it on his son. He then placed a hand on his son's head. Zach smiled. Ed felt a tear start to form in the corner of his eye and he looked away. He could remember school shopping for his son, purchasing that new winter coat for the coming winter. He'd never imagined then he'd be where he was now.

He pushed the feeling back and attempted to remain focused. They found Jeremy a new stocking cap to replace his old one, and they found some wool socks to replaced the ones with holes in them. Spending their lives walking made short work of socks.

During their search they ended up near the electronics section. Dozens of now-useless digital cameras sat on the display shelf. Behind the digital cameras he found a rack of disposable film cameras. It was likely that the film had been damaged by exposure to extreme temperatures over the past few years, but he grabbed one anyway. He lined his sons up side by side, checking first to ensure they were still the only ones in the store.

“When was the last time we used one of these?” he asked them.