Riposte (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 2) (3 page)

Choking back her fear, Lin charged forward like a running back shielded by the defensive line. She pushed through the carnage in the wake of General Montes, all the while desperately trying to clear her mind of the horrors around her. When they emerged into a clearing, they were relieved to find Corporal Rocha and an American soldier, Sergeant Garza, already waiting for them in a large crew cab truck. The General hoisted Lin into the cab of the Light Service Support Vehicle, or LSSV, before jumping in behind her. With the remainder of the horde trailing behind them, they wove through the mayhem, narrowly escaping the base that was rapidly being overrun.

Only once they finally pulled away from the air reserve base did the tension in Lin’s body begin to dissipate. She leaned forward, tapped Corporal Rocha on the shoulder, and handed him the little suncatcher she had recovered. Although she was not sure why, the incredulous look of gratitude and raw emotion that flooded his eyes caused an intense lump to rise in her throat.

Nearly at a loss for words, Corporal Rocha said, “Where did…? Thank you. I—I can’t begin to tell you…” While the other two did not seem to notice the exchange, Lin sensed that the depth of meaning behind his few words went far beyond that of the words themselves.

As the four bone-weary survivors continued to distance themselves from the hell at the air reserve base, Lin struggled to wrap her mind around the insanity they had experienced. Her mind reeled when she considered that less than twenty-four hours ago she had been sitting quietly in her lab. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared out the window, thinking of the sacrifice the soldiers made as they fought and died to protect her in the hope of saving their country, and possibly the world.
I only hope it turns out to be a worthwhile sacrifice.

Lin’s tears only intensified as she thought of the paralyzed soldier. The painful awareness of everything his simple nod conveyed proved nearly too much for her to cope with. She thought she had seen understanding in his eyes, but now she recognized that the strange calm had really been acceptance. What truly threatened to push her over the edge was what she saw running just beneath the surface of his calm veneer—an overwhelming sense of pleading. Although unnoticed at the time, it was there as plain as day when the images replayed in her mind repeatedly. It seemed clear that the soldier had accepted death and had been asking her for mercy. That she was unable to give the soldier that mercy filled her with an unimaginable sense of sorrow and failure. Huge sobs racked her body as she cursed the bitch the world had become. 

When they stopped a few miles outside of the base, Corporal Rocha sat next to Lin as she stared at the USB drive, slowly turning it over in her hand. General Montes and Sergeant Garza stood next to the truck scrutinizing a map spread across the hood, and discussing various routes in hushed voices.

“My Luisa made that little suncatcher you recovered,” Rocha said as he stared into the distance at something only he could see. “She was four years old.” Fighting to maintain his composure, he continued despite the sadness in his eyes and the strain in his voice. “She was killed by those monsters, you see. I wasn’t with her. I was off fulfilling my military obligations. I should have been there.”

Lin wanted to tell him it was not his fault, that there was nothing he could have done. Instead, she said nothing, realizing that anything she could cobble together would ring hollow and meaningless against the weight of his words. Corporal Rocha did not deserve that, so she simply sat quietly and listened.

“When we received the orders to evacuate you to the U.S., General Montes agreed to accompany me to my house to pick up my wife and daughter first. Even though it was not allowed, he insisted that we bring them with us. The General is a great man, and a great leader. I have fought by his side for years and would gladly give my life for him. Anyway, what we discovered when we arrived at my house…”

Corporal Rocha broke off, no longer in control of his voice. After several moments, he sighed, and with a deep breath, he continued, “In addition to my little Luisa, there were three others there including my wife. General Montes told me to wait outside in the truck, that he would release them from their torment. For that small mercy alone, I am forever indebted to the General. As I was leaving the house, I found that little suncatcher hanging on the window by the door next to a note.”

Corporal Rocha handed Lin a worn scrap of paper he retrieved from his pocket.  On it were three words, scrawled by the hand of a child:

Wellcom home dady!

3

October 22, 2015

Marengo County, AL

Staring out across the boundless sea of revs in the distance, John Wild could not help but wonder if the rest of his life, however long that may be, would look like this. Since his return to Alabama nearly a month ago, he had spent nearly every moment searching for his daughter, Ava, and fighting to stay alive. During that time, he had come close to death on more occasions than he cared to recall. He had lost everything, and he was tired of running. Now, as he looked upon the seething mass of infected things marring the distant countryside, his body trembled, and his hands clenched with rage and hatred.
You bastards have taken too much already! When will enough be enough?
Although his loathing for the revs burned like an inferno deep inside him, he realized that they were merely victims of the plague as well. Arguably, they had lost as much or more at the hands of the merciless infection; the injuries littering their ravaged bodies were proof of that fact. Still, that understanding did little to mitigate the unbridled anger he felt toward the infected.

Perhaps more than any other, that aspect of the plague frustrated him the most. It was as though they were fighting a war against a faceless enemy. The revs were little more than virulent pawns in a vast army of death led by an otherwise unknown adversary. John was certain there was no nefarious master plan inside the rotting heads of the revs, no concerted effort to recruit the uninfected to their side of the fight.
Without knowing who or what was really responsible for all of this, how can we ever truly win this war?

From somewhere behind him, Kate’s voice brought him back to the moment. “John, are you okay?” She had been quietly observing his body language, which readily betrayed the emotional turmoil with which he grappled.

Thankful for the redirection, John took a steadying breath and nodded. As much as it pained him to admit it, he knew it was time to head to Atlanta in search of his friend, Dr. Lin San. He had come to this conclusion the previous night as he wrestled with the thought of abandoning the search for Ava. While he had no supporting evidence, deep down he truly believed that she was alive somewhere. If indeed that was the case, he rationalized he
had
to go to Atlanta if it would increase the chance that his little girl could live out any portion of whatever remained of her life without constantly running from monsters.

While he knew even making it to Atlanta was a long shot, he felt they had to try if they ever wanted to stop running. He knew how truly brilliant Dr. Lin San was, and with what she had told him during their brief, broken communication almost a month ago, he believed she had the necessary information to help her to find a way to stop the plague. As a final conciliatory thought, he told himself that if their trip to Atlanta was unsuccessful, he could always return and pick up the search for Ava once again. After all, if she was alive she had managed to survive just as long as he had, which meant she could take care of herself.

In the blink of an eye, all of these conflicting thoughts and emotions flooded John’s mind leaving him overwhelmed and nauseated. Thinking back to what Kate had said to him about the dichotomy between hope and closure, he was unable to contain his tears.
To hell with closure! I choose hope!
Between sobs, he managed to choke out a few words before turning to walk toward his waiting companions.

“I will always love you, Ava.”

In the distance, the horde’s agitation inexplicably intensified as if in response to the words they could not possibly have heard.

* * *

While John took a few final moments to make peace with his old life, Ethan and Reams headed out to procure transportation for the trip to Atlanta. The previous night the group had discussed their transportation needs for the nearly three hundred-mile journey. They imagined the roads near the larger cities would be far more congested, and given the conditions of the roads they had seen thus far, they all agreed that off-road capability would be essential. They also agreed that stopping to refuel, assuming fuel was available, would be a risky endeavor thus making fuel efficiency a valuable characteristic as well. Accepting that they were unlikely to find a large enough vehicle that satisfied both criteria, John proposed a suitable alternative:

“My neighbor, Bob Taylor, lives a few houses down and has this obnoxiously big Hummer that he treats like one of his kids. I’m not sure if he or the truck is still there, but it’s a place to start. It should be plenty capable off-road and has a small pickup bed for supplies. I’m sure fuel economy is complete shit, but we can always gather a few gas cans to take with us,” John said.

After a bit of discussion, the group decided it was as close to their needs as they were likely to get. With a smirk, Reams shook his head, and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me! We’re in the middle of the damn apocalypse and we’re going out looking for a Hummer. Tell me we’re not going to the mall to hole up once we find it? You know when that shit happens in the movies, it’s the black guy who gets it first, right? At least tell me the truck’s not yellow?”

Feigning amazement, John shot Reams an incredulous look that said
how did you know the color of his truck,
before saying, “It’s actually black. Bob had an appointment to have it repainted in a nice lemon zest but decided against it when the body-man tried to eat him…and don’t worry there, tiger, we’ll drop you off at the water tower on the way to the mall.”

Not wanting the conversation to break down any further, Ethan broke in with a serious tone and shifted the discussion back to the issue of transportation, “John, do you know how many people lived in the Taylor house?”

“Bob, his wife, and three kids—between nine and fifteen years old, I believe,” John replied, his demeanor once again deathly serious. He knew why Ethan asked the question, and the thought of the infected family trapped inside the house instantly quashed his lighthearted banter, leaving him feeling rather queasy.

“We have to be ready for any possibility. You never know what we will find. We can check it out at first light. I don’t want to take a chance on making a bunch of noise until we are ready to head out. The last thing we want to do is call a group of them to our position and get ourselves boxed in,” Ethan added.

The following morning, Ethan and Reams decided they should go to the Taylor residence, leaving John at his house with Kate. Reams sensed John’s mind was not completely clear, and he certainly did not fault him for it. Ethan and Reams agreed it would be best if they allowed John some time to himself before leaving later that morning.

With Ethan on point, the pair slipped silently out the back door of John’s house, moving undetected through the neighboring yards until they reached the Taylor’s residence. As they had been friends, John knew Bob Taylor kept a spare key hidden in the tree in his backyard.

Ethan and Reams knelt at the edge of the yard, keenly observing the landscape for any sign of trouble. The chill in the early morning air made their breath come out like little puffs of smoke as they watched in silence. Satisfied there was no apparent danger, they crept onto the wooden deck and over to the sliding glass door. A loud groan of protest punctuated the predawn quiet as a piece of loose decking shifted under Reams’ substantial weight.

In stark contrast to the pervasive stillness in which not even the sounds of animals could be heard, the creaking noise was as loud as a tree splitting after a lightning strike. Both men froze instantly; an icy chill enveloping them as they waited for the ominous reply they were sure would follow. After several tense moments, Ethan let out a long sigh of relief when nothing happened. The spectral silence to which they had grown accustomed returned as the perfect soundtrack for the equally ghostly landscape silhouetted by the dim light of the early morning sky.

While the sliding glass door and the rear windows of the house were covered with drapes and blinds, there were no obvious signs of damage or forced entry to the back of the house. During the discussion the previous night, John informed them that the front of the Taylor’s house appeared unscathed when they passed it on the way in. Moving to the door, Ethan crouched and placed his ear directly against the glass to listen for any movement within the home’s darkened interior. Hearing none, he pulled gently on the door’s handle but found it was locked. He glanced down at the lower track to ensure there was no security bar in place and was relieved to see there was not. Turning to Reams, he signaled for him to retrieve the key hidden inside the knothole in the tree behind the house. Reams complied, being careful to avoid the loose board as he climbed back onto the deck to give Ethan the key.

Without a sound, Ethan slid the key into the lock; the soft
click
that came when he turned it told Reams the mechanism had disengaged. Slowly, Ethan slid the glass door along its track, praying it was not in need of a shot of WD40. Covering the widening doorway with his pistol, Reams felt as though Ethan was rolling the stone away from the mouth of a tomb. The putrid stench of death and decay that assaulted the olfactory center of his brain immediately reinforced that sentiment, and he struggled to control his revolting stomach. As he did, he thought of his grandmother reading her favorite passage from the Book of John, recalling how Lazarus’ sister, Martha, vehemently protested the opening of his tomb due to concerns about her brother’s stench given that he had been dead for four days.
Now I know what she was so worried about!
Breathing through his mouth, Reams focused his mind, gagging once more before finally stifling his nausea.

“Holy shit, that stinks!” Ethan said, as he busied himself tying a handkerchief around his face. “Remind me to get some peppermint oil the next time we’re near a pharmacy. I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last time we run across that rotten-ass corpse smell! You good, buddy?”

Reams gave a tentative nod, and the two men cautiously entered the Taylor residence. Reams soon became acutely aware that he was in fact far from
good
, stopping just past the threshold before staggering back against the doorframe. The overwhelming totality of horror bombarding all of his senses simultaneously surpassed even that which he experienced at the carnal house in Hermitage Estates. While the meager amount of light creeping in through the cracks in the blinds did little to dispel the room’s inky blackness, Reams could clearly make out dark splotches of all shapes and sizes adorning every surface in the shadowy room. The noisome air was thick—moving as though charged with a subtle and ominous electrical current.

Reams watched the dense miasma swirling within the murk before it collided with them as it rushed through the open door. The itching sensation of a hundred tiny things brushing against his face at once made him want to claw his skin off, and he wriggled violently to escape the barrage. It was worse than if he had walked through a thousand spider webs one right after the other. Only when he took a sharp, involuntary breath and his mouth filled with the buzzing blowflies did he realize what was brushing past every exposed portion of his skin. As if in defense of his aerodigestive tract, bile rushed up from his stomach, simultaneously flooding his mouth and drowning the unfortunate winged trespassers that had flown into the open cavity.

For the first time since the early days of the plague, Reams thought he had reached his limit. Hurtling his massive frame through the open door, he landed on his hands and knees on the deck outside. Spitting, shaking his head, and rubbing his face wildly, he tried desperately to expel every trace of the depraved house from his body.

As Ethan watched, he was suddenly very thankful for the bandana. He shuddered at the appalling thought of the damned flies swarming through his open sinus cavities.

“Reams. You okay, buddy?” Ethan called from the doorway, simultaneously keeping watch over his friend outside and the darkness within the house. Although he thought he knew the answer to the question, he handed the big man a spare bandana and added, “Here, put this on. It won’t keep the smell out completely, but it’ll help a little.”

Reams wiped his face and mouth on his sleeve before taking the bandana. “Thanks, man. I’m sorry. What the hell happened in there? It’s like pure evil and rot was bottled up—festering—just waiting for someone to let it out.”

In a matter-of-fact tone, Ethan replied, “If you figure the person or persons in there died near the start of the outbreak then the body would be well into the putrefaction stage. All the bloat is gone, and the gases have mostly been expelled by now. Between that and the bacterial decomposition, the intensely strong smell of decay attracted the blowflies, which fed and laid their eggs, furthering the whole process. With the house being sealed up, it’s all concentrated. Now, all that’s left in there is likely a grease spot and a rotten, custard-filled, skin-sloughing sack of bones…and of course, the stench and the flies.”

Feeling the overpowering nausea inching back up his throat, Reams responded with annoyance, “Damn, Ethan! It was a rhetorical question! I don’t need to hear that shit! What the hell’s wrong with you, man? Let’s just get in there and do what we came to do so I can get far the hell away from here!”

“Take it easy, Reams. I’m just saying…” Ethan replied defensively.

While it was not possible for them to be truly prepared, they at least knew what to expect when they entered the darkened house for the second time. Ethan was relieved that the interior of the house remained quiet aside from the droning buzz of the remaining blowflies. Satisfied that no revs were lurking in the shadows, Ethan switched on his flashlight and panned it across the room.