Sometimes We Ran (Book 2): Community (4 page)

My nap was short. At least, it seemed short.

Without a clock, I couldn’t tell if it was night or day. I also couldn’t tell how many hours had passed since I ate. I sat up and looked at the table. The empty plates and the cart were gone. Two unopened bottles of water had been placed on the table.

I sat down, opened one of the waters, and took a drink. The cool fresh liquid went down smoothly. The bottles were still cold. It hadn’t been very long since they were placed on the table. I must have been tired. I didn’t hear a thing. I passed time by reading the water bottle label. It was nice to have plenty to drink after so many weeks of rationing.

This place still bothered me.

It was too perfect. They had food, lights, and even computers. It also looked like they also had plenty of fuel and ammunition. I wondered what this place was really about. I kept trying to force myself to relax, and accept the help, but something kept gnawing at me.

Not as fit as you think
, Odegard had said. Not fit for what? Not fit to survive? Maybe not fit to be cooked and eaten? My head hurt at the possibilities. Claire and I could be in danger and not even know it. We both needed to stay alert.

I thought about my secret knife in my backpack.

They had taken my guns and tomahawk, but they might have overlooked my secret knife. It was sewn into a flap of fabric in the bottom of my old backpack. Small and easily concealed, it might have been missed. The little knife wasn’t much: a carbon-fiber handle with a sharp blade that folded, but it was enough to defend myself. Just go for the jugular. Cut them and they’ll bleed to death in just a few minutes. I had taught Claire where to cut as well.

As I sat at the black plastic table contemplating the trouble Claire and I might be in, the door beeped. Wallace stepped into the room.

“Are you decent, John?” he asked, slurring his speech a little. My senses went into overdrive. It looked like he had been drinking. He still had his huge silver revolver at his hip.

Wallace came over to the table and sat down in one of the chairs facing me. He didn’t say anything as he stared me in the eyes. “No guards tonight?” I asked.

Wallace waved his arm as if to dismiss my question. “No. I know you’re not going to turn.” He breathed a heavy sigh, and leaned forward. “I’ve come to talk.”

“About what?”

Wallace waved his hand again. “Anything you want. Actually, I wanted to ask you a few things.”

I leaned forward in my chair. I stared in Wallace’s eyes trying to read his mind. His eyes were steel gray, with a hint of sadness. It was a look I was familiar with: Most survivors had the same look in their eyes these days. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, it’s where we found you. Here’s Chattanooga,” he said, drawing an imaginary line on the table. “Here’s Atlanta,” as he drew another line with his finger below the first. “And let’s say this is Valdosta and the Georgia-Florida border.” He drew a final line on the table, south of the Atlanta line. “We found you guys here.” Wallace circled a space southwest of Atlanta where we were picked up on the interstate. “You two were on the interstate scrounging for food.”

“So?” I said.

Wallace leaned back. “It’s just that the whole damn state of Georgia is a dead zone, I figure. Along with parts of Alabama, the Carolinas and Tennessee. And don’t get me started about Florida. It’s all dead.” He paused for emphasis. “I’ve sent patrols as far south as Panama City. They reported that there isn’t enough life left in these areas to fill a school bus.”

“What do you want to know, General?” This was a different Wallace than before. He seemed more serious. He was building up to something.

Wallace stood up and began to pace around the table. “How did you survive? A former telecom engineer and a college student, surviving all this time out in a dead zone.” He stopped pacing, and turned to face me. “No training, yet you survived among all those reanimates. How did you survive?”

I remembered the hard times with Claire on the road. Survival hadn’t been easy. We got lucky. A mild winter, along with some careful scrounging and rationing, had allowed us to stay alive. We had started moving southwest looking for warmer weather and greener pastures. Running for our lives helped a lot, as well.

I looked at Wallace, and smiled. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Wallace smiled back. It was sinister. A real slick little grin. “No. It’s something else. My scouts watched you for a while. They said there was something different about you two. I have to agree. When they brought you in here, I saw a real fighter. A guy that would do anything to survive. Usually we put people in these rooms and they tear the place apart.” He shook his head sadly. “Most people have been out there too long, killing and scratching to survive. By the time we find them, they’re…,” Wallace struggled for an appropriate word. “Broken. Most survivors are useless. But not you.”

I couldn’t imagine what he was trying to say. “What are you driving at, Wallace?”

He sat down and moved closer. The scent of liquor got stronger. “Have you ever stood outside on a starry night, looked up and asked, why me? Why was I spared while so many went to their death? For what reason was I given the chance to live?”

A shiver went down my spine. Wallace had hit the bull’s-eye. I had been asking myself the same things for a least a year now. The look on my face must have given him my answer.

Wallace continued. “I asked myself that question every night for six months. I obsessed on it. It occupied my every thought. It almost drove me insane. And then I had a breakthrough. I was spared to make a difference. God in his infinite wisdom had left me here to do something important,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What did you come up with?” I asked, terrified at what the answer might be.

Wallace started to beam. “I was left here to take it back. Me and my men were still alive at the end of it ready to cleanse the Earth. Return it to the living. A chance to start all over again. Think of it, John. A chance to reboot the world and form it in your own image.”

“What image is that?”

Wallace stood and held his arms apart. “They’re all gone.”

“Who’s all gone, Wallace?”

He bent down to whisper in my ear. “All the people who stood in this great country’s way: the lawyers, the politicians, the immigrants, the race-baiters, the queers, the lazy. Every useless waste of skin that held us back. Swept away by the hand of God and the zombie swarms. It left people like you and me. Survivors. Ready to push those undead bastards into the sea .” He paused to take a breath. “I need you, John. I need your survival instinct, your calm, your ability to think on your feet, and your sense of loyalty to your friends. Together we can take it all back. What do you think?” He walked to the end of the table to await my answer.

I sat there, taking small breaths, unable to process all the information that had been presented. Wallace wanted me to join him in trying to take back the earth. He had a grand plan. He obsessed over it. It was his legacy, his gift to mankind. I could only come to one conclusion as I sat there stunned in the little quarantine room.

Wallace had gone a little nuts.

He wanted an answer. “Well, John. What do you say?”

I stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m not in the world-building business. I’m a survivor. Nothing more.”

Wallace stepped back with a shocked look on his face. “I can’t lie to you. I’m a little disappointed with your lack of vision. We’ll talk again after you think about what I said. You know deep down I’m right.” He turned toward the door. As he stepped into the hallway, he paused for a second. “Oh by the way before I forget, our resources here are quite limited. When quarantine is over, we usually put our survivors with the general population of the shelter. A guy like you will do okay I think, but your little girlfriend Claire Margaret may have some trouble. Some of those guys haven’t seen a new woman in about a year or so. I would hate for her to be hurt or anything.”

My hands tightened into fists. Rage built up in my body till I felt like I might explode. I didn’t like where this was going. “If you hurt Claire, you and I are going to have a problem,” I said in a low, even tone.

Wallace winked. “Now, there’s that survival instinct I was talking about. Think about what I said. We’ll talk later.” With that, he quickly walked out into the hall and disappeared. The door shut and locked behind him.

I stood for a few seconds boiling with anger. Wallace was a nut, and this whole setup was no safe haven. He was trying to recruit me for a suicide war against the zombies, and get Claire raped. We had to find a way out of here. Now.

Not caring if a camera was watching me or not, I quickly walked over to the storage locker on the wall. I found my backpack and began to search the bottom for the little flap of fabric that contained my emergency knife. At first, I couldn’t find it.
Bastards must have found it. Dammit!
Then my probing fingers found my little secret friend. I ripped open the little pocket and brought it into the light. The carbon-fiber handle glinted in the soft light of the room. I flicked it open and tested the blade. Very sharp. Many nights of working the blade on my stone had honed it into a deadly weapon.

I palmed the knife and lay down on the bed. I stayed awake and waited. When the time came, I would get Claire and find a way out of this nuthouse.

All I needed was someone to show me the exit. The next person to come in the room would be the one to help me find it. They won’t have a choice. They’ll have a knife at their throat.

I lay in the dark, turning my little folded knife over and over in my hand. I was waiting. Waiting for a volunteer to show me the way out of this madhouse. I stayed awake, hardly blinking, listening for the beep of the locked door to signal me that someone had come in the room. At the beep, I would leap out of bed and put the knife at their neck. Then, I’d spring Claire and get the hell out of here.

That was Plan A.

After a few hours of straining to hear the beep, it finally happened. The door opened and someone stepped inside.
Here we go.
I pretended to sleep as my unknown visitor strolled around the room in a sneaky fashion. I held my breath as they started walking over to the bed. They came near and peered down at me. Like a coiled spring releasing its energy, I jumped out of bed and forced the dark shadow in front of me to the ground. In one swift move, I opened the knife and put the blade to its neck.

“Jesus Christ! Where the hell did you get a knife?” It was Odegard. His glasses were askew on his face.

“Good,” I said, pressing the knife a little bit more into his neck. “The other maniac. I hoped it would be you. Congratulations. You’ve volunteered to show me and Claire the way out of this asylum.”

I pulled him up from the floor roughly and deposited him into the nearest chair. He was white as the clean sheets on the bed. “Put the knife down. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to help you.”

I pulled the blade away from his neck. “Help me? You and your General buddy are trying to get Claire and me killed.”

Odegard rubbed his throat. “I know. I’m here to get you and your friend out of here. You need to let me explain.”

Despite my better judgment, I put the knife away. “Okay. Start explaining.”

Odegard fixed his glasses. “Okay. First of all, Wallace isn’t a real general. He was a civilian attached to the army for logistics. Disaster management. He was brought in and attached to the Southeastern Command after the shit hit the fan with the reanimates. At first, it was considered a local emergency. All he had to do was go to Atlanta, set up a few survival camps, run evacuations, and advise the army. That was all.”

So far it made sense, if anything in this world made sense anymore. “Go on.”

Odegard reached for a bottle of water on the table. “You mind?” I waved, and he opened the bottle and took a long drink. “Well, Atlanta fell to the undead. We all had to evacuate. We retreated to the north, but were swarmed by Chattanooga’s problems. East was no good… too many reanimates that way as well. Then, the orders stopped coming.” He looked down. “It was every man for himself.”

I remembered those awful times. Swarms of zombies left the major cities, and crisscrossed the countryside, eating anything with a pulse. Add in crowds of refugees and a military on the run, and it was a good recipe for the end of the world.

Odegard continued. “We lost everybody. The unit we were attached to got wiped out. They lost their leadership, and just about everything else.” He paused. “Wallace took over. He put on someone’s uniform with those stars on it, and all of sudden, he was a leader. Self-appointed, of course. All of us began to listen to him. He kept us together. He was the one who knew where this facility was.”

“What kind of facility?” My head began to spin.

“This is a old National Guard compound. It was shut down, but the buildings and fences remained. We came in here, turned on the power, and cleaned it up. You and Claire are in the medical building. It can be turned into a quarantine by setting the locks up. They can be set to only work from the outside, or by using cards. Perfect for keeping soldiers and civilians exposed to chemical, biological, or nuclear attacks isolated from other people.” He waved his arms at the walls. “I guess they didn’t count on using it in a zombie apocalypse though. The whole compound is known by the number 66, or Double-Six.”

My head hurt. It was a lot to take in at once. “Who are you? How do you fit in to all this?”

Odegard swallowed. “I was Wallace’s Atlanta contact… essentially an assistant. I was supposed to set up his computer networks and communications. I lived in Atlanta with my wife, so I got the job.” He laughed a little.

I started to get dressed. I ripped the plastic off the new black T-shirt and threw it on the bed along with my pants and jacket. “Got caught up in it all, huh?”

“Yeah. Me and my wife had to evacuate with Wallace and the army as Atlanta went up in flames. The last thing I saw was the Air Force firebombing the city, trying to cut off the reanimates.”

I stopped dressing for a minute. I had my own firebombing memories. I remembered the stink of burning flesh and gasoline as the area around my home was bombed. That was the exact moment I knew I would never find my Gia. I forced the images in my mind to go away. “Wallace was here earlier. He asked me to join him and his homemade army.”

Odegard started to fidget in the chair. “Yeah. He has been sending patrols into the dead zones to find volunteers to help him. Most of the survivors we brought back didn’t work out.” He trailed off.

“Didn’t work out? What do you mean?” I finished dressing and started pulling on my boots.

Odegard stared into space. “They had been fighting to survive too long. They were road weary, or too sad. Most of them had gone a little crazy with stress. They weren’t fit.”

“You said I wasn’t fit when you saw me for the first time.” Wallace and his crew had given me new laces for my boots. That was nice of them.

Odegard sipped his water. “I was trying to buy you some time. When you came in, he said you were perfect. You were the one.”

I stood, shocked at what he said. “The one?”

“Yeah. He told me he saw something in you. You were not an ordinary survivor. There was something different about you. You had a need to survive. He really wanted you to join him. Wallace said you could make a difference.”

I tied up my boots and sat down. “Join him? For a suicide run, against the undead?”

Odegard looked me in the eyes. There was a lot of sadness in his gaze. “To him, it’s not suicide. Wallace thinks he’s doing something good. Maybe it’s a way to go out fighting.”

“If your his assistant, why should I trust you’ll get us out of here?”

Odegard stood up and began to fumble in his pocket. “You just have to trust me. I’ve had enough. It’s time to end all this. Wallace keeps bringing people in, and destroying them. I’m sick of it. First time I’ve taken a stand on anything.” He pulled a handgun and some extra ammo out of his pocket. I thought for a second he was going to hold me at gunpoint, but he put it on the table. “I couldn’t get any of your weapons back. This gun will have to do.” He slid the gun and ammo towards me on the table. It was smaller than the one I gave up. “Wallace is manipulative and he’s got some bad wiring. He’ll use your friend as your weakness. He’ll get you to do things as he threatens her. He’s good at that. Things aren’t so great here at Double-Six. We have maybe three weeks of food, water, and fuel left. After that, his men will turn on him. Most of them weren’t in the army anyway. They’re just a bunch of guys we found on the road. Wallace promised them food, guns, and liquor… and women if we could find any.”

We started for the door to retrieve Claire. “Do you have a plan?” I asked.

Odegard opened the door. A cool breeze from the hallway washed over me. “I’ve been in contact with some people on the outside. Some survivors trying to make it in a sub-division up the road.” We started walking down the hallway. Odegard stopped at the door two rooms away from mine. “They’ve sent a van. It’s waiting right now outside the compound. We have to hurry.”

“They sent a van,” I said. “What stops your boss from getting into his former-UN truck with it’s handy big-ass machine gun and following Claire and I to this sub-division?”

Odegard smiled. “You’ll be relatively safe. We traded some weapons for food with these people, and Wallace is afraid of them now. I don’t think he’ll risk any more of his men. He watches everybody out there outside the gates, but tries not to engage unless necessary.” He adjusted his glasses. “At least, that’s my theory, anyway. I’ll make it look like an escape. Wallace will probably lose interest in you and move on to something else. You’ll be okay.” He didn’t sound so sure of himself.

Odegard led me to Claire’s room as quietly as possible. He produced a small card and slid it into the lock, which beeped. As he started to let himself into the room. I stopped him. “You better let me go first. She’s liable to kill you.”

Odegard looked doubtful. “Really? She’s so little. Probably asleep as well.”

I went around him and let myself in the room. “Trust me.”

Claire’s room was an exact copy of mine, right down to the same brand of television. It was very dark, except for a small lamp on the table. Claire was on the bed with a sheet covering her. I approached with caution. I had taught Claire to sleep lightly. It was an essential skill, what with man-eating zombies walking around.

“Claire. Are you awake?” I got near the bed. Her breathing was slow and steady. Claire was in a deep sleep, or at least she was pretending to sleep. I touched her shoulder to wake her up.

In a flash, Claire jumped off the bed, fully dressed and ready to go. She knocked me to the floor, and kneeled on my chest. She stared down at me with the eyes of an animal. Beads of sweat rolled off her forehead. She pinned me down and put a cold, sharp object to my neck. Claire had a secret knife of her own.

Before she could cut my throat from ear to ear, I said, “Claire! It’s me, John.”

She got off my chest, then threw her arms around me. “John! Thank God. This place is nuts. Wallace came in here saying all kinds of crazy crap. I think we’re in trouble.”

I got off the floor. ”I know. Odegard is going to show us the way out,” I said, nodding behind me.

Claire looked at the now very pale Odegard and said, “Can we trust him?”

“I guess so. He knows some people. They sent a van.”

Claire grabbed her backpack, and the three of us hurried out of her room. Odegard took the lead and took us down the long black-and-white tiled hallway. There were no guards; we were the only people in the hallway. We got to the end of the building. Odegard stopped at a door marked with an exit sign. It was the way out.

“This is it,” Odegard said. “This door leads to the compound. Follow the concrete path to a break in the fence. It leads to a gravel access road. At the end of that road, they’ll be waiting for you.” He lowered his voice and added, “I hope.”

Claire and I looked at each other. Odegard didn’t sound so sure of his plan. “Do you want to come with us?” Claire asked.

Odegard adjusted his glasses. It was his nervous habit. “No. My wife…she’s very sick. I think she’s dying and can’t be moved. I can’t leave her. Now, you guys have to go. Just follow the concrete path to the fence. You’ll see the break. Follow the road to the end. They’ll be there waiting for you. Don’t worry about any guards. Nobody patrols the compound anymore.” He put his hand out. “Good luck.”

I shook his outstretched hand. “Thanks. Good luck to you too.” Odegard swiped his card to pop the lock and opened the door. A blast of Southern spring humidity came inside. I smelled the wet grass and early morning dew. Claire and I walked outside, leaving Odegard behind. He shut the door.

We were on our own. I drew the handgun Odegard had given me. “Ready, kiddo?”

Claire looked around nervously. “Yeah. Let’s go.” She clenched her fists. “Wish I had my bat.”

“Yeah. I wish you had your bat, too.”

We found the concrete path and started following it to the distant fence. Odegard was right. There were no guards. Claire and I didn’t run, but we walked with purpose. After a few minutes of walking, we reached the fence. A few seconds of searching revealed a hole cut into the chain-link, hidden by some landscaping. I took a quick look beyond the fence. A gravel trail, about ten feet wide, curved off away from the fence into the woods.

The woods, where Red-Eye zombies could be watching.

The sky was getting lighter, but sunrise was still a bit away. Even though it was early dawn, the zombies still had the advantage. Claire and I knew that walking around at night was dangerous. Any number of monsters could be waiting on our gravel road to freedom. We were going to have to chance it.

Claire went first through the hole. Due to her small size, she had no problem shimmying through the break. I had a little more trouble. Despite our starvation diet, it was a tight fit. It took me a little time to get through the hole. Claire put her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

We started down the gravel road as quickly as we could. The rough stones made loud crunching noises under our feet as we ran. To my ears, it sounded loud enough to alert every zombie in the immediate area. Every hundred feet or so,we stopped to listen to our environment. A breeze kicked up and began to move the trees and underbrush around. There were other noises, too. Crickets and small frogs in the underbrush. We put our heads down and kept running.

Then the crickets and frogs stopped making noise.

The gravel path went as silent as a tomb. Claire and I froze in place. All at once, it seemed that the woods were alive with the sounds of creatures moving around. Dark shapes followed us in the shadows, and we caught the sound of low growls. We were being hunted. We began to run faster to the end of the road.
The gravel path ended at a country road. Claire and I looked around, but there was no van waiting for us. I looked both ways on the road, but saw no one. We were alone, facing an unknown number of zombies in the woods. I looked back down the gravel path, toward the fence. About fifty feet away, a Red-Eye crossed the path. It paused for a second to stare at us with twin glowing eyes. After a few seconds of heavy glancing, it melted into the brush beside the road and continued hunting us.

Claire and I were about to become zombie chow.

“They’re not here. What do we do?” Claire asked, breathing hard.

Before I could answer, something grabbed Claire and pulled her into the brush. Her scream was cut short as I heard her hit the ground. Without thinking, I dove into the damp weeds after her.