A Dark Evolution (Book 2): Deranged (15 page)

“That’s Jackson, it's Jackson!” Jane was screaming. She ran past Robert and he had to catch her by the arm to keep her from running into the electric fence.

Then the truck slammed on its brakes and came to a dust-skidding stop only a few feet from the fence. Robert saw the frightened face of his son-in-law inside the cab.
Jesus, I almost killed him,
he thought. He glanced past Jane over to Manuel, who gave him a knowing look and shrugged. They had gotten lucky this time.

The door of the truck opened and Jackson stumbled out, running to greet Jane as she shimmied under the fence. She threw her arms around him and kissed him furiously. He returned her embrace and Robert saw his face was bruised and lacerated.

“Are you all right, Jackson?” Robert asked.

The tall man nodded, “Damn glad you’re a shitty shot, though!” he laughed, and slapped Robert on the back.

“Go grab the kids, Jane, I can’t wait to see them,” Jackson said.

Jane ran off to the house, and Jackson turned to Robert. “They’re coming, Pop, the zombies. They’re streaming out of the city, and I must have passed a thousand on the way out here.”

“You think they will find us here?” Manuel asked him.

Jackson turned to the older Mexican man. “There’s no doubt in my mind. They’re only a few miles away.”

Robert’s heart was racing as they all started for the house. Could he defend his family? He would try. It was all he could do. At seventy years old, he had devoted his life to work and family; if he could not save them now, what would have been the point? Jane came out with the kids, who ran to their father, hugging him excitedly.

“I missed you guys!” Jackson said, as he picked the little ones up. “Have you been good for Mom?”

“She’s been really stressed out,” four-year-old Sarah said.

Jackson laughed as he squeezed his two girls. “All right, time to go inside girls, go find your cousins and tell them it’s time to play a game in the basement.”

“Okay!” Sarah said and tore off into the house, with her three-year-old sister trailing behind.

“What’s the game, hon?” Jane asked Jackson, sidling up to him, the relief at having him home obvious.

“Hide for our lives,” he responded sadly. The relieved smile melted from Jane’s face. “The monsters are out walking through the roads and the woods.”

“And you think they’ll find us here?” she asked, clearly not wanting to believe it. They were, after all, far out in the country.

Robert cleared his throat. “Jane, get your mother, tell her to open the gun safe, now.” Robert turned to Manuel, who was looking over at the bunkhouse nervously. “Manuel, get your family and bring everyone into the house.”

Manuel nodded, “Jonas can shoot.”

“Good,” Robert said, “we’ll need all the hands we can get.”

Manuel walked over to the bunkhouse at a fast pace. He passed Jonas on the way and barked something in Spanish to him, tossing the young man his rifle. Jonas jogged up to him. “What is our plan, sir?”

Robert smiled at the young man. He looked exactly like his father, only forty years younger. Manuel had started late in life. “Go stand watch at the driveway, I’m going to get some weapons and then we’ll meet you out there.”

Jonas jogged off without a word. He had his father’s strong work ethic, and his tight-lipped nature. Robert turned to Jackson. “Are you well enough to fight?” he asked. Jackson’s injuries had not gone unnoticed by Robert. Jackson shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. His face was gaunt and unnaturally pale from a lack of nutrition, his eyes set deep in darkened red sockets. There was a pink stain leaching through the fabric of his khakis. Jane had been too happy to see him to notice his compromised condition. Grief was like that though, Robert knew.

Jackson sighed. “I got hit by a car while I was trying to escape. Knocked me off the road and into a ditch that ran past the highway underpass. Probably saved my life though. I woke up in the middle of the night and could hear those crazies out in the street. I’ve been camped out in a parking garage for days, trying to hide and stay safe, all the while looking for a ride with keys in it.”

Jackson looked far away as he spoke, and Robert knew there were likely many more horrors that the man had experienced in the last week.

“Did you come into contact with any of them, the zombies?”

He nodded slowly. “I had to kill one.” Jackson’s eyes glassed over a little before he continued. “It was just a boy, couldn’t even have been twelve. He was wandering through the parking garage and found my hiding spot.” Jackson shivered. “I had to strangle him before he could make any noise and attract others.”

“I’m sorry, Jackson,” Robert said as he put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m telling you, Robert, it’s madness in the city. The residents are either hiding or fleeing or looting, and the looters are being attacked by the zombies. They’re all running around like maniacs so you can’t actually tell who’s who.”

“You never should have left, Jackson.”

“I know, Robert, I know. Come on, it’s bad enough I’m going to have to hear it from my wife.”

Robert put a strong hand on Jackson’s shoulder. Even though Jane’s husband was taller and stronger than he was, Robert had been the boss for many years, and he could still intimidate when he wanted to.

“Fifteen years ago I warned you never to hurt my granddaughter, Jackson. You made me a promise, and you almost broke that promise because you didn’t listen to us and stay here.”

Jackson blushed red, his square jaw squirming under the truth.

“Sorry, Robert.”

Robert nodded and released Jackson, just as Mary came out of the house with Mark. His daughter looked pissed, cradling two short rifles and a shotgun in her arms. Mark was carting a stack of ammo boxes and had a Winchester 30-0-6 slung over his shoulder.

“Hey Jackson,” Mark called over. “You’re late.”

Jackson smirked. “What are you doing out here, Mary?” He asked his mother-in-law as she handed him a bolt action rifle.

“I could shoot the pants off both of you boys, so watch your mouth,” Mary quipped, then touched Jackson on the arm. “I’m glad you’re back, Jackson.”

He gave her a nod. Manuel’s family walked past them and into the house, with Manuel drawing up beside them. Mary handed him a rifle, which Manuel checked immediately for ammo.

“So what’s the plan, Dad?” Mary asked.

Seeing Mary there, a shotgun in one hand and a rifle over her shoulder, Robert couldn’t help but feel proud.

“The vaccines are going out now,” Rosa said into the phone. He was speaking to Jason in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

“Where are they heading?”

“Everywhere. We have millions of doses. Once we figured it out, it was surprisingly fast to make.” Rosa paused, “Well, everywhere we can get to. The infrastructure gets a little sketchy the farther west we go. A lot of open miles, and there’s plenty of pirates trying to make a killing off the medicines.”

“Even with martial law being in effect throughout the country? How is that possible?”

Rosa sighed into the phone. “Jason, you all are sequestered up there, but out here things have gotten nastier by the day. There’s rioting and looting going on in almost every city, and there just isn’t enough personnel to stop them. The price of milk is over ten dollars, ground beef is about the same per pound, and no one is selling fruits or vegetables. People are scared, people are greedy, and scared, greedy people do foolish things without thought to the consequences for anyone else. So, robbing a truck containing medicines that could help thousands, just so they can turn a profit? Well, it’s not so improbable. We’re locked up tight here, but I still get nervous at night. I find myself listening for the sound of attackers coming to try to take medicines or weapons.”

“Jesus,” Jason answered, his voice tinny on the phone. “Tell me again, how long is this vaccine going to be effective for?”

“It’s still not a vaccine, not really, more like an antiserum, but depending on the person’s metabolism, I think we can reasonably assume it will stay in the body for about ten months.”

Jason whistled over the phone. “That’s pretty impressive, Rosa.”

“Considering the time we’ve had, I think so. It’s just a nasal mist, like the flu vaccine. Once it’s administered, it goes straight into the lungs, which push it into the bloodstream. From there it binds to cell walls, especially fatty cells.”

“And after a time, as the cells break down and are recycled by the body, the medicines are naturally excreted?” Jason asked.

“Yes, it’s uh - the same concept as putting tick repellent on dogs; it makes the blood poisonous to the parasite.”

“And what’s the liver damage looking like?” There was no accusation in Jason’s question, but he was asking just the same, and it was a concern Rosa didn’t especially want to think about right now.

“It’s too soon to tell, Jason, but I’m sure there will be some.”

“Fair enough. Frankly, I’m amazed you’ve come up with something this fast.” Jason sounded weary, they all were at this point. “And not a moment too soon, Rosa, the situation is escalating out there. The border is going up slowly, and even that is just a stopgap, we need to beat this thing down.”

“I know it. How are things going on your end? Any progress with our bug problems?”

“I’ve shipped in hives from South America and we’ve been dispersing them in the safest areas we can find. There’s no guarantee they will take hold, but I’m hopeful.”

“Not going to do much good if the ground is poisoned though,” Rosa commented.

Jason was silent for a moment. “How did you know about that?” he asked.

“I have friends everywhere, Jason. You’ve had the DNR testing water and soil from New Jersey to Iowa. They told me it’s toxic. The plants they’re trying to grow are withering as they come out of the ground.”

Jason huffed out a breath. “Look Rosa, I’m not a botanist, but this is pretty simple stuff. Poison was dumped all over the country to try to kill all the mosquitos carrying the virus. Ninety-nine percent of these poisons went straight into the earth and killed off everything it settled on. The groundwater was contaminated immediately, and some of these poisons were relics from the World War II era of organophosphates. They don’t break down right away in the earth, so when we have a concentration this high blanketing the fields, there’s a good chance of crop failure.”

“So why do it? Why do I still see Nolan on television telling people to plant corn and wheat?”

“Well, obviously I’m trying to give them something to do!” Jason was getting irritated, “If people think the situation is hopeless, we’ll lose all control. At least this way, they’ll have hope.”

“But is it hopeless?”

“Didn’t we have this same conversation in your office almost a month ago?”

“Didn’t I hire you to fix this mess?” Rosa snapped back.

“Interior says they’ve already stopped all humanitarian aid missions. All food products are being secretly distributed to food banks here in the north.”

“Good god,” Rosa whispered.

“Yeah. Africa, Afghanistan, India, Haiti, it’s all coming back. They’re pulling it all in to try to protect our core. These places aren’t going to last long. Africa wasn’t even hit that hard by the virus, but they’ve only got months to survive in the rural areas; I mean they’re already starving. Pakistan is hoarding all the food aid they’ve already received, for their diplomats and upper class.”

“Survival of the fittest?”

“Hardly. More like survival of the richest. It’s no different than famines and plagues back in the feudal days in Europe when the wealthy and powerful protected themselves and let the peasants die off. That way they ensured that they remained in power in the future.”

“I love your optimistic and unclouded view of society,” Rosa said sarcastically. “Everything you said is true, and frankly, not surprising. For now, we still have beef, chicken, and pork, and they’ll sell it until it’s gone. With the country’s available food supply literally cut in half by the zombie outbreak, it won’t last long. I only hope we can vaccinate as many people as possible to prevent the loss of any more life and potential farmland.”

“As for the rest of us...well, you may get rid of the virus, but those of us who don’t know how to hunt are probably gonna starve.”

“Do you have any suggestions or insights that might actually be helpful?”

There was a pause as Jason mulled this over. He realized he’d let his own, now cynical and fatalistic, view of the situation get in the way of his professionalism. “Rosa, I don’t know what we can do right now. Our country has been cut in half, and the rest are turning barbaric. The damage done to the world’s ecosystem cannot be undone by man. In time, and I don’t know how much time, the world will heal, the arthropods will return, though in what form and number I don’t know. It may take ten years or a hundred, we just can’t say. When insects return, the ground will become more fertile, and food sources will reemerge. Until that time, we are going to struggle, and many of us will not survive.”

“You’re giving up on me?”

“No, Rosa. Listen, you’re an old friend, and you’re a smart man. You have to see that there isn’t a happy ending here.”

“So what do we tell the world?”

“The same thing we have been, plant food. Who knows if it will grow, but there’s not much else we can do. We all have to become farmers. Wind-pollinated plants, chickens, pigs, any animal that will provide food without having to consume too much of it, because even feed for animals is going to become deathly scarce.”

“Fine, well, I guess just keep doing what you’re doing. Though in truth I had hoped for more.”

Rosa’s words stung, but Jason couldn’t blame him. He was disappointed as well.

*****

It took Kala three weeks to pilot their small group into Tennessee. Finding diesel every day took them hours and sometimes they still came up empty. They traveled roads where they were unlikely to encounter people, for here in the deep south, the good ole’ boys were armed and deadly. A near-constant chatter of gunfire permeated the quiet air. Kala, Dylan, and Sophie had set out from southern Florida just the three of them. In northern Florida they had picked up Andrea, her husband Tom, and Devon.

During their northward trek through Alabama, Kala picked up a few more stragglers. Dylan wasn’t a fan, he didn’t trust anyone out there, but Kala would not turn them away. They found an Infiniti SUV that seated eight and jammed in their two new passengers. They were just kids like her, like Dylan.

Kala looked over her shoulder. Mae and James sat in the farthest back seat, and Kala could see they were holding hands. James was a small, squirrely-looking kid, with thick glasses and a rich southern accent. His face was pale white except for about a million little red pimples that had been sprouting up over every bare inch.

“I had a prescription for my acne,” he had told her yesterday, “but that’s gone now, so it just grows like weeds.”
He was funny, and Kala liked him instantly. Plus James had acquired an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle, which added nicely to their armament.

His girlfriend, Mae, was a bit of an enigma. She wasn’t really a pretty girl, but not unpleasant to look at. She was a little taller than James, with a rounded face and hair that stopped just below her jawline. She had the unfortunate habit of keeping the hair in her face, covering up her eyes, which were a very pretty pale blue. She didn’t speak, at least she hadn’t spoken to Kala, and when she walked she almost seemed to shuffle.
An odd duck
, she thought. Mae was leaning against James in the back seat and it made Kala smile.

They had just wound through a series of tight turns on Caney Creek road and were about to cross over into Kentucky when, without warning, the windshield snapped and a splatter of safety glass shot in at them. The thick chunks weren't sharp, but pelted her face. There was a golf ball sized hole in the windshield, directly in line with where her head would have been if she hadn’t been looking back at Mae and James. Then Dylan started screaming in the back seat.

“What happened Dylan, what is it?”

“My leg, my leg! I think I’ve been shot!”

“Shit,” Kala cursed and jerked the wheel hard to the right, sending them skidding off the road and behind a dense copse of trees. Dylan was bleeding everywhere and he was freaking out. He woke up both Sophie and Devon, and now his little sister was screaming. Kala unbuckled and climbed back into his seat. The floor was covered with blood. “Stop moving! Let me see!”

Kala pulled his pant leg up. There was a grisly-looking hole right through his shin and calf. “Definitely a gunshot. Andrea, first aid kit!”

Andrea was already on it, handing the white steel box up from the way back. Kala turned his leg over in her hand, causing more screams. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she called up to him. The bullet had blown straight through his leg, at least it wasn’t in him, but his leg was screwed.

“Sophie, honey, please stop screaming in my ear.” Sophie didn’t listen, and there was nothing she could do to calm her. She pulled the bottle of peroxide from the kit and poured it over Dylan’s leg. He howled again and Kala shushed him. She grabbed the thick roll of gauze and packed some into the wound, then began winding it over his leg.

“Dylan, all I can do is stop the bleeding. But, I - I’m not a surgeon, I don't know what else I can do.”

Dylan was gripping the seat with both hands, his head held back and his jaw clenched through the pain. She finished wrapping his leg and thought it should stem the flow of blood. There didn’t seem to be enough blood for it to have hit an artery, thank god, but if an infection took hold, Dylan would be as good as dead.

“Tom, James, take the AR-15 and the shotgun and scout in through those trees. See if you can get eyes on who’s shooting at us.”

“All right,” James said, climbing out of the car.

“But take the binoculars too,” she called after him, “I didn’t hear a shot, so this guy could be a long way off.”

“Right,” Tom called back to her.

“And stay behind the trees,” she shouted, “they’re probably still looking for anything that’s moving.”

Kala fished five packets of ibuprofen from the kit and tore them open. Each of them held two pills. It would have to do.

Dylan took the pills and the water bottle she offered with shaking hands.

“It’s going to be okay, Sophie,” Kala said, trying to calm the girl, who was now gripping Dylan in a tight bear hug, sobbing inconsolably. “Dylan is just fine, I promise, I just gave him some medicine to help him feel better.”

Dylan downed the pills with a grimace and caught Kala’s eye. He nodded. “I’m fine Sophie,” he gritted out. “I’m okay now, Auntie Kala fixed me.”

A pale white hand reached over from the far back seat. Kala looked up to see Mae holding out a mason jar full of clear liquid.

“Is that moonshine?” Kala asked.

Mae nodded.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

Mae shrugged and gestured to Dylan. Kala looked over to him. She turned the jar over in her hands then opened the lid and took a whiff.

“Eeuw! Shit, yeah that’s definitely moonshine,” she muttered.

“Don’t give him more than an ounce or two,” Andrea piped up from the back. “With his skinny body, any more than that could really hurt him.

Kala was nervous about it. She knew that pure grain alcohol was a dangerous thing. She watched Dylan’s face, still contorted in pain. Finally, she sighed and filled a small Dixie Cup halfway with the pungent liquid and handed it to him. “Drink this, but do it fast. It’s going to burn,” she added.