Voodoo Plague - 01 (7 page)

The water
revived us as we drove, and we devoured several of the protein bars I had
liberated from the gas station market.  Even with all of the sugar and protein
I was exhausted and started to get concerned about finding a place to spend the
night. 

We had driven
north on GA400 for a few miles before heading west on surface streets.  We
didn’t really have a plan other than getting away from the inferno that was
Atlanta.  We soon found ourselves in a residential neighborhood with neatly
maintained lawns and tree shaded streets.  Some of the houses we passed had
obviously been abandoned in a hurry, garages standing open and empty, others
looked buttoned up with blinds drawn tightly.  Some of these were occupied,
blinds twitching open as the sound of the truck’s big diesel rattled down the
quiet streets as we passed.

I slowed as we
approached a four way intersection where two police cruisers completely blocked
the road, roof lights flashing.  No one was visible and one of the cruiser’s
doors was standing open.  Easing to a stop 50 yards short of the intersection I
scanned the area looking for any threat.  Despite not seeing any danger the
short hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end.  I rolled my window
down as I scanned the neighborhood, but all I could hear was the idling of the
diesel.  Not wanting to turn off the engine I eased the transmission into
reverse and backed into an empty driveway as the street was too narrow to make
a U-turn with the big truck.

The sound of
roaring engines reached me as I was shifting back into drive and two sedans,
both Toyotas I think, screeched out of adjacent driveways and slid to a stop in
front of me.  I was blocked in, a closed garage door only feet from my rear
bumper but I didn’t hesitate to floor the throttle.

The diesel
engine roared and the rear tires screamed in protest as the truck lurched
forward and crunched into the sedan on my left.  Time seemed to slow down and I
saw the white oval of a face behind the wheel of the car as the big Ford bulled
it aside.  From the corner of my eye I registered movement to my right and then
bullets were smacking into the cab of the truck.

“Down,” I
screamed to Rachel as the path in front of us opened with a rending of sheet
metal.

Rachel dove to
the floor and rolled herself into a ball in the passenger side foot well.  The
truck was accelerating away from the ambush but moments later a bullet punched
through the rear window of the truck then the windshield, travelling a path
where her head had just been.

I took the first
turn I came too, the truck threatening to roll up onto two wheels as I wrenched
it through the turn without letting off the throttle.  A final bullet pinged
off the back of the truck then we were clear.  Expecting pursuit I kept on the
speed with an eye on the mirrors, but nothing appeared behind us.  A couple of
miles and several turns later I felt it was safe to slow down.

“What the fuck
was that?” Rachel asked as she climbed back onto the seat. 

“That was the
human race at its best,” I answered, taking another turn to get us heading west
once again.  “World’s always been full of assholes and I’m guessing these guys
either wanted the truck, you, or both.”

Rachel didn’t
have a response to that and we were quiet for a bit as I kept pushing us
towards the west.  The neighborhoods were all the same, a mix of obviously
abandoned houses and houses that were occupied by people hunkering down.  We
hadn’t seen any infected in some time and I stayed on high alert for any more
ambushes.  We were poorly armed and in no way able to fight off a concerted
attack.  I knew many of the houses probably had guns and ammunition in them,
but was hesitant to stop. 

Reaching Georgia
Highway 20 I continued our path west, dodging abandoned car accidents and the
occasional roving band of infected.  We saw no more people on the streets, but
the further west we went the more infected we encountered.  The males slowly
shambled after us, but the females charged us at a frightening speed.  I didn’t
think we would last long on foot trying to outrun them.

It was now fully
dark and after the third time a screaming infected female ran into the side of
the truck, scaring the shit out of both of us, we decided it was time to find a
secure place to stop for the night.

“There was a
service station with roll up doors about two miles back,” Rachel said, placing
her hand lightly on my arm.  She was exhausted and spooked, the light touch a
plea to get off the road.

“Let’s see what
it looks like,” I said and cranked the truck into a U-turn.

The service station
looked like it had once been a chain gas station but was now an independent
automotive repair shop.  I drove past, slowing slightly, and didn’t see any
obvious danger.  U-turning again I wheeled into the parking lot and backed the
truck to the one vacant service bay.

Loosening the
Glock in my waistband to make sure it would draw smoothly if needed I grabbed
the tire iron and stepped down out of the cab.

“Slide over and
be ready to back into the bay when I get the door open,” I said, slamming the
truck door before Rachel had a chance to respond.  I watched for a second to
make sure she got behind the wheel, then stepped behind the truck and tried the
door.  Mercifully it was unlocked and I was able to raise it with a squeal of
poorly lubricated metal.

Moving out of
the way I slapped the side of the truck as an all clear and Rachel quickly
backed into the garage.  Turning to step in behind her my only warning that I
was being attacked was the slap of feet on pavement.  I spun around in time to
meet an infected female that launched herself at me from a full run.  She
wasn’t a big woman, but 110 pounds hit me square in the chest and knocked me
flat on my ass.

The tire iron
flew out of my hand, clanging across the garage bay.  I got my hands in front
of me and locked on her shoulders, holding the snapping teeth at bay, and with
a mighty grunt I shoved her away.  She flew a few feet and hit the front bumper
of the truck with a sickening thud, scrambling back to a crouch faster than she
should have been able to. 

Fumbling for the
pistol and raising it, I snapped off a shot as she launched herself like a
missile.  I was happy to see the long dormant skills hadn’t atrophied too much
as the hollow point round punched through her face and continued on to blow out
the back of her head. 

Frozen for half
a second I stared at the twitching corpse then swiveled to scan the driveway. 
I didn’t see any additional threats, but then I hadn’t seen the female that had
just nearly killed me.  Standing up I kicked the corpse out of the garage and
jerked the door down, slapping a locking pin home to secure us inside.

“How do I shut
the engine off,” Rachel asked out the open driver side window.  “We don’t need
to asphyxiate ourselves after surviving this long.”

Opening the door
I reached across her bare legs and disconnected the two wires that kept the
engine running.  The diesel clattered to a stop and silence descended in the
garage, the ticking of the cooling engine the only sound.

I rolled the
truck window up, locked the door and after telling Rachel to stay put I closed
her in the cab.  The next ten minutes were spent checking the entire garage and
office area and making sure all the entrances were secure.  Satisfied at last I
returned to the truck and motioned Rachel out.

Stepping stiffly
down from the cab she looked down at the puddle of blood on the floor from the
infected I had shot, then her gaze moved to the front driver side tire which
was completely flat.  A whole the size of a half dollar was visible in the
sidewall.

Unlike in the
movies where you see the hero shoot someone in the head and everything behind
that person gets splattered in only blood and brains, in real life there’s also
a bullet that exits the back of the head and can still cause damage.  The shot
I was so proud of had exited the infected woman’s head and torn through the
sidewall of the tire.

My body cried
for sleep, but I wasn’t going to rest without making sure our transportation
was ready to go.  Finding a floor jack I raised the truck and got the tire changed. 
I searched the garage but they apparently didn’t sell tires so we were stuck
going forward without a spare.  I still put the ruined tire and wheel into the
back of the truck in case we could find a replacement tire as we traveled.

Next I inspected
the truck for damage.  The gleaming push bar on the front bumper was now
scuffed and scratched from pushing our way out of the ambush, but it was still
solid.  There were numerous bullet holes in the truck’s sheet metal and glass
as well as the cracked rear window from the infected female that had tried to
head butt her way in.  I reinforced the glass as best I could with duct tape.

Raising the hood
I checked over the engine.  Hoses and belts were good, oil and coolant were
fine as well.  Closing the hood I looked to the back of the garage bay and
noticed a roll of heavy gauge wire mesh.  Having seen how quickly our windows
were failing I dragged the wire over to the truck then went in search of tools.

I had finished
covering the back window with the wire mesh, cut to size and attached around
the edge of the glass with sheet metal screws into the truck’s body, when
Rachel returned.  She was barefoot and wearing a set of mechanics coveralls
that would have been large on me, and she had wet hair and a clean face.  

“Think that will
stop them?” She asked, combing her fingers through her hair.

“It will at
least slow them down,” I answered, driving the first screw for one of the side
windows.  “You look better.”

“I feel better. 
I’m just glad the water is still on.”

Rachel watched
me work for a few moments, then stepped up beside me and started helping. 
Working together we had all of the truck’s glass covered in less than an hour. 
Stepping back I appraised our handiwork.  It wasn’t pretty, but I doubted the
glass by itself would survive another day.

We spent another
half hour gathering jugs of motor oil, anti-freeze, brake fluid, anything we
thought the truck might need and got it all stowed securely in the bed of the
pick-up.  I found a couple of cans of pressurized tire inflator/sealer and
threw them in with the haul.

We filled every
bottle we could find with water from the small sink in the bathroom off the
garage office and secured it in the back seat.  Two tool boxes full of tools I
picked out went into the bed and were strapped down tightly. 

Finally I
searched the entire building for weapons, but found nothing except a rusting
filet knife.  Never knowing what use it could be put too, I tossed it into the
truck and headed to the bathroom to clean up as best I could.

Exhausted, but
cleaner, I returned to the truck to find Rachel curled up on the back seat fast
asleep.  Careful so as not to wake her I crawled into the front and lay across
the seat on my back.  I fell asleep in seconds, the pistol resting on my stomach
with my right hand lying on top of it.

“Max here again
with the truth about what’s happening.  Information is sketchy, but I’ll tell
you what I know and what I think I know.

“First, don’t
approach cities.  The cities that were attacked are death traps.  The effects
of the nerve agent that was released are deadly to both those exposed to it as
well as those who were not initially infected.  The exposed are coming out of
comas in a hyper aggressive state and will attack anyone not already exposed. 
I don’t know how or why this is happening, but I’ve got dozens of reports of
people being attacked and ripped to shreds by their friends, family or
neighbors. 

“I’ve also
personally seen women that have been exposed, infected I guess, so aggressive
that I can only compare them to a lioness.  They are fast, don’t seem to feel
pain, and are nearly unstoppable.  The infected men I’ve seen are just as
dangerous, but slower and much less coordinated.  I can’t explain it, but I’m
sure there’s some scientist somewhere that can.

“As far as I
know the infected aren’t contagious, but I think it’s a safe bet that if they
have any of the nerve agent on their skin or clothing you would be infected by
coming into contact with them.  Reports are that the infection is spreading.

“The government
continues to remain absent and reports are that the entire command structure of
the US Government has retreated to hardened bunkers and is communicating with
the military via secure satellite links.  Civilian communications of all sorts
remain offline.

“There is severe
civil unrest in the cities that were not attacked.  Rioting, looting, fires
burning out of control.  Avoid the cities at all costs.  It’s only going to get
worse.

“More missiles
have been launched, some going north which can only mean Russian targets, but
most going west.  There have been no reports of retaliation and so far I’ve had
no luck in reaching anyone outside the continental US to find out what’s
happening in the rest of the world.

“We’ve had to
move twice in the last twelve hours.  Once to avoid military forces that were
tracking our signal, and again to escape a large group of infected.  We’re
ready to move again before the military triangulates our signal and we get a
visit from one of the drones they so love to use.

“Again, avoid
the cities.  Avoid the infected at all costs, and don’t trust the authorities. 
I don’t know why they’ve abandoned us, but at this point they can’t be
trusted.  Until my next broadcast, be safe.”

The signal cut
off before Max finished speaking the word safe and was replaced with the sound
of static.

I had awakened
to a hot and humid Georgia morning and turned on the truck’s radio to see if
there was anything broadcasting.  As before there was only static as I scrolled
through both the FM and AM bands so I had left the radio on the frequency I’d
first heard Max on and when I returned from the bathroom was rewarded with his
update.

Rachel was still
in the back seat, silent and unmoving and I thought she was still sleeping
until she spoke, “Why would the government cut us off like this?  Shouldn’t
they being doing everything they can to help us?”

I thought about
it before answering, “I don’t have any idea.  It doesn’t make any sense to me
either.”

She turned over
and looked at me for a few minutes before climbing out of the backseat and
disappearing into the bathroom.  She returned a few minutes later and hopped up
on the lowered tail gate next to me. 

“I don’t suppose
we have a toothbrush or any toothpaste.”  She said.

“I’ll put it on
the list.” I said, trying to make it sound light hearted but failing miserably.

Rachel looked
over at me through tangled hair, “So what’s the plan?”

I let out a big
sigh before answering.  By nature I was a person who analyzed situations and
made decisions quickly.  The US Army had recognized this trait early and honed
it to a fine skill.  College and work after the army had polished it, but at
the moment I felt like I was in a daze and thinking at about half of my normal
rate.

Trying to get my
brain in gear I started to lay out our situation and options.

“We’re cut off
from any form of government help or protection.  In fact I haven’t even seen a
cop since this all started.  Infected are roaming the streets and will attack
as soon as they see us, but I think the bigger danger may be from other people.

This just
started and already we’ve had to escape an attempted ambush.  Fortunately those
guys were amateurs or we might have been in some trouble.  We might not be so
lucky next time.

I’m heading for
Arizona to get to my wife.  I don’t know what it’s like there, but if anyone
can hold out it will be her.  That’s at least 1500 miles through what sounds
like will be hostile territory.  No comfortable hotels or restaurants along the
way.

I guess the
first question is what are you doing?”

I looked at her
and reached to my shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes that wasn’t there. 
Another item for the list the next time I looted a store.

Rachel shook her
head, the tangled hair swirling around and hiding her face. 

“I don’t have
anywhere better to go, and sure don’t want to be on my own, so I guess I’m with
you.” She answered while staring between her swinging feet at the stained
garage floor reaffirming her prior commitment to go with me.

I was relieved. 
She had already shown a good head for crisis situations not to mention saving
my life at the first gas station we’d stopped at.

“Good.  First
thing we need are more supplies.  These protein bars aren’t going to last
long.  Just as important we need weapons.  We’re going to have to defend
ourselves and a tire iron and nearly empty pistol aren’t going to cut it.  And,
I need to find a map.”

Talking was
helping and I was starting to think again; starting to plan how we would
actually make it across the majority of the United States.

“Why a map?  We
just follow the freeways, right?”  She asked.

“If the freeways
are open and safe that would be great, but I have a feeling that there’s going
to be a lot of bad guys ready to ambush anything moving on the interstate
system.  Also, freeways go through big cities.  We need to go around them.  I
know how to get to Arizona, but I don’t know how to avoid all the dangers
between here and there.”  I answered.

She thought
about that for a moment then nodded her head in agreement.  “You’re right.  OK,
so what’s first?”

“Weapons, then
food, medical supplies, then a map.  In that order.”  I didn’t even hesitate
with my answer.