Influenza: Viral Virulence (15 page)

“Have you had to, you know…” Jeffrey asked haltingly, “kill anyone?”

“No,” Lorie said, shaking her head. Then she looked over at Michael, who didn’t answer.

“Michael?”

He still hadn’t told her about Crazy Ted. He didn’t want to upset her. But he also felt guilty about keeping anything from her. Sighing, he resigned to tell her, minus a few details.

“On the trip to the big outdoor store, we were forced to kill someone,” he admitted.

“What! And you didn’t tell me? What happened?” Lorie asked with concern.

Michael then told them the whole story. He left out the fact that it was Crazy Ted, but everything else was on point. He told them that this guy had killed an innocent freshman boy and was just about to kill Scott. When he finished, he glanced at Lorie to see how she would respond.

She said nothing for a few minutes and then spoke out. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked Michael once again.

“I didn’t want you to think less of me for doing what I had to do. I didn’t want you to think of me as a killer or a murderer.”

“Shooting someone in self-defense is not murder. It was obvious that this guy, whoever he was, was a killer. If he shot an unarmed college student for beef jerky and was about to shoot Scott, then you did the right thing,” Lorie said, looking at him.

“I’m still wrestling with the morality of it all. So, are you okay with what I had to do?”

“Of course,” she responded. “The only thing that upsets me is that you thought you couldn’t tell me about it.”

“You’re right,” Michael said regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” she said, and that was the end of it.

As they continued to make their way to Lima, they talked mostly about their experiences over the past few weeks. As they drove, intermittent farmhouses started giving way to more urban houses and communities. When they got closer to the city, the houses became more frequent, with less and less yard space in between. Michael started seeing signs for Lima. Fortunately for them, Interstate 75 was on this side of town. They wouldn’t have to try and navigate through the majority of the city and its unknown, hidden horrors in order to get on the road toward home.

Michael was beginning to think they were in for smooth sailing when he saw a vehicle up ahead blocking the roadway. Driving closer, he saw that it was an army jeep. An army checkpoint? He slowed the truck further.

Two men in uniform immediately appeared out of a small, green house on the left side of the road. They waved them to a stop.

“What’s this?” Michael muttered. He didn’t want any hassles or further delays. He just wanted to be on his way.

The taller of the two men signaled for Michael to get out of the truck. They both had AR-15s strapped to their shoulders. Well, at least they weren’t threatening them with their guns by pointing them at Michael…at least, for the moment.

Michael and his three passengers obediently got out of the truck. Michael started to walk toward the two men.

“That’s close enough,” the tall man said sharply.

Michael stopped and waited.

“Sorry, we need to make sure that no one in your party is sick.”

“What’s going on?” Michael asked.

“You mean this?” the tall man said, indicating their roadblock.

Michael nodded.

“Lima was decimated by the flu virus. Most of the population is dead or is in the process of dying. The army has restricted access to the city to try and keep the infection rate down. Anyone who wants to pass through has to be processed in our centralized FEMA facility. Once infection has been ruled out, you can be on your way. But we have plenty of food, clean water, and hot showers. You may change your mind and want to stay.”

“No, we just want to get on the freeway and head home,” Michael said. “We won’t even get out of the truck. We’ll just get on the interstate and be gone. No one in our group is sick.”

“Is that so?” the tall man said with a grin. “I’m sorry; you still have to be processed at our camp. Orders, you know. By the way, do you have any firearms on you?” he asked, indicating the truck.

“No,” Michael lied. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t fully trust these men. Something just didn’t feel right.

“That’s good. If you want to get back in your truck and follow us, we’ll take you in for processing, and then you’ll be free to go on your way.”

Just then, a young woman poked her head out of the small house on the side of the road. Her makeup was smeared. She looked at Michael with haunted, pleading eyes.

Seeing Michael’s gaze, the taller man turned and said sternly, “Shelly! What have I told you? Get back inside!”

The woman disappeared into the depths of the dark house. But before she went, Michael caught a glimpse of fear on her face.

Turning his attention back to Michael’s group, the tall army man asked, “What are your names?”

“I’m Michael. This is Lorie, Liz, and Jeffrey. We’re from the university and just trying to get home.”

“College kids?” The tall man smiled at his partner. “I’m Lieutenant Handley, and this is Private Sealy,” he said, indicating his shorter, rotund partner.

Liz spoke up and asked, “Did you guys see a red Mustang come through here earlier today?”

Sealy put his hand on his AR-15 and glanced up at Handley.

Handley paused uncomfortably and gripped his gun a little tighter. Then, he seemed to recover, and he smiled. “Yes, we let them through today. Two college boys, right?”

“Yeah, that’s them,” Liz said. “Do you know where they went?”

“They were taken in and processed. Then, once they were cleared, they went on their way.”

“Too bad,” Liz said. “They took some things from us, and we were hoping to get some of them back.”

“Yeah, they headed out,” Lieutenant Handley confirmed. “I don’t think you’ll see them again. Well, the sooner we take you in, the sooner you can get on your way. Just follow us, and don’t stray off the path.”

Handley and Sealy turned and got into a big, black, jacked-up truck parked by the house. Michael hadn’t seen it before, since it had been partially concealed by some tall hedges. He had assumed they would get into the jeep, but he figured they still needed to block the road with it. Sealy turned his face toward them and grinned as he waved them forward. Michael did not like that grin. It reminded him of a hungry wolf.

The army men waited as Michael and the rest got back into the truck. Still feeling uneasy, he started the truck and slowly rolled behind the black truck. The two trucks began moving down the road.

Unable to suppress his nervousness any longer, he turned to Lorie. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“I know what you mean,” Lorie said. “Did you see the way Sealy looked at Liz and me? Like we were just pieces of meat.”

“And did you see how scruffy they looked?” Liz added from the backseat.

“Everybody looks scruffy nowadays,” Michael said in their defense.

“Yeah, but even their uniforms didn’t match. Sealy’s shirt was about three sizes too big for him.”

“And those boots weren’t even regulation,” Jeffrey said. “I know that for sure. I just started in the ROTC program on campus. And if I’m not mistaken, that isn’t a lieutenant’s shirt Handley is wearing. The stripes on the side are sergeant stripes.”

Michael thought about everything that had just transpired in the past few minutes as they slowly followed the black pickup truck into the city. He wasn’t happy about the situation, but at this point, they had little choice. The two men were supposedly from the armed forces, and besides, they had bigger guns.

Lorie had started a conversation with Liz about her very recent ex-boyfriend.

“Don’t think about him,” she was saying to Liz. “Just remember that you’ll probably never have to see him again.”

“Unless they get this mess cleared up and restart classes next semester,” Liz said gloomily.

Seeing the overpass for the interstate approaching, Michael eased off the gas and let the truck slow down. As they drove under the overpass, Michael noticed the graffiti recently scrawled on the concrete that read, “The End is HERE!”

“Right you are,” Michael muttered under his breath as he continued to follow.

“What?” Lorie asked, breaking off her conversation with Liz.

“Nothing,” Michael replied.

They drove past the entrance to the interstate. How he wished he could just turn his truck up the ramp instead of going to be “processed.” He almost considered doing just that, but he saw that the ramp was barricaded with more than twenty cars. Reluctantly, he continued past. The thought of going to a FEMA camp was unnerving. It reminded him of the death camps during the Holocaust. As he pictured the mess of cars blocking their way onto the interstate, suddenly, alarm bells clanged inside his skull.

Interrupting Lorie and Liz, Michael asked urgently, “Liz, what kind of car did you say your boyfriend had?”

“Why?” Liz asked back curiously.

“Just tell me,” Michael demanded. “What kind of car was it?”

Liz looked offended. “It was a red Mustang. He thought it made him look cool.”

Michael slammed on the brakes, and the truck screeched to a halt. Caught off guard, everyone was jerked forward. Sandy almost fell off the seat onto the floorboard.

“What the…!” Liz started.

“These guys aren’t army,” Michael said quickly as he rapidly put the truck into reverse. “They’re most probably local militia who have gotten their hands on army uniforms and a jeep.” Looking over his shoulder out the back window, Michael sped backward. Glancing out the front windshield, he saw the black truck’s brakes light up. “If they get us to their ‘processing center,’ they’ll take all of our supplies. Then, Jeffrey and I will most likely be killed and you girls enslaved. I should have seen it sooner.”

“The wrong-sized clothes…” Liz started.

“The wrong uniform…” Jeffrey added.

“The frightened girl in the house…” Lorie said grimly.

“And the black monster truck they’re riding in,” Michael finished. “Definitely not regulation. Even I know that. It’s all wrong.”

“It could be just coincidence,” Liz said, suddenly afraid.

“Is that a coincidence?” Michael asked. They had just backed up to the interstate ramp. He pointed out his window at the pile of cars blocking the ramp.

Liz gasped. “That’s Rick’s car!” she exclaimed.

Sure enough, a red Mustang was among the tangle of vehicles on the ramp. Small, black dots marred the bright red paint job. They were bullet holes.

“Where’s Rick?” Liz cried.

“Probably dead,” Michael said matter-of-factly. He was suddenly glad Lorie had convinced him to pick the two siblings up. If Liz hadn’t been in the car, he and Lorie would have been naively following the other truck to their deaths.

Again, Liz was taken aback by Michael’s bluntness.

“But,” Lorie turned and said, “I wouldn’t shed much of a tear for him. Remember, he left you two to die.”

“Watch out!” Jeffrey called out from the backseat. “They’re gaining on us!”

Indeed, as Michael turned his attention away from the road behind them, he could see that the monster black truck was getting closer. The truck’s lights flashed them.

“Right,” Michael said sarcastically. “We’re not going to stop for you.” He continued backing his truck. He knew he should have turned the truck around. They couldn’t make much speed this way, but he was also afraid that if he took the time to turn around, then Handley and Sealy would be on top of them in moments.

“How are we going to get on the interstate?” Liz asked from the backseat. “They have the ramp completely blocked off.”

“Easy fix,” Michael reassured them as he backed the truck under the overpass they had just driven through minutes ago. They were once again looking up at the message, “The End is HERE.”

“But what if they really are army?” Lorie asked.

“Then, they shouldn’t pursue us,” Michael said. “We pose no threat to them or their city. We haven’t done anything wrong. We just want to go home.”

Glancing to his left, Michael put the truck back into drive and inadvertently squealed the tires as he sped up the interstate northbound exit ramp. Going the opposite direction of normal traffic, Michael successfully drove onto I-75 and started heading south on the wrong side of the interstate. Multiple red signs blared, “Wrong Way.”

He watched in his rearview mirror as the black truck turned on the ramp behind them and continued pursuing them.

“They’re still behind us,” Jeffrey said with panic.

“Yes, I see them,” Michael acknowledged, pressing down on the accelerator.

There were a few abandoned cars on the interstate facing north, and since Michael was traveling south in the northbound lanes, it looked odd. It was as if they were paddling upstream against the flowing current.

As soon as he spotted one of the emergency-vehicle turnaround places on the median, which the police loved to use to sit and catch people speeding, he swung the truck through and was no longer disobeying the traffic laws. At least now he wouldn’t get a ticket for going the wrong way down the interstate.

Handley and Sealy followed.

Out on the open interstate, Michael pressed his truck as fast as it would go. The needle started approaching 110 mph. But no matter how fast he raced south, the black truck was steadily gaining on them. Even though his truck was an eight-cylinder powerhouse, they could not outrun the other truck, since his vehicle was weighted down with four human passengers, one dog, and lots of supplies and personal belongings.

Looking apprehensively out the back window, Liz cried, “What are we going to do? They’re going to catch us!”

Jeffrey then said, “Sealy is leaning out the window and pointing his assault rifle at us!”

Michael’s mind raced with his options. If he stopped the truck, they were all dead. If he continued to race down the interstate at this speed, an accident was inevitable. Either he would lose control at this speed, or Handley would try to run them off the road. And glancing in the mirror, he saw Sealy aiming his gun at them.

They were in the middle of farm country. The interstate was completely straight and flat. The black truck was now so close that all Michael could see in his rearview mirror was the truck’s blaring headlights.