Fade to Grey (Book 1): Fade to Grey (52 page)

Pulling up even with Sam and Thompson, the four of them sat
quietly, each lost in their own mental swamp regarding the implications of what
they had seen. A cold chill vibrated up and down Michelle’s spine as she
thought about what just happened, and she half-consciously reached over and
turned the heater fan to high.

A few moments later Sam and Thompson got out of the Explorer
and sat in the backseat of Andy’s truck. Michelle’s words practically leapt out.

“Please, somebody tell me that we haven’t shot a bunch of
people who didn’t do anything wrong besides being sick. Tell me that these
infected people are not going to get better. Tell me they don’t know what
they’re doing.”

After a few moments passed, it was Thompson, surprisingly,
who spoke first. “Ma’am, I think I know what you’re thinking. The same thing
that I thought when Sam told me what was written on the car door. You know, the
question of whether somebody can come back once they’ve been infected. Like is
there a medicine or treatment for them. Or if we just give them enough time
will it run its course like the flu. And I got to tell you, I don’t think so. And
if there is a medicine, I doubt we’ll ever see it. I think it’s a lot more
likely that the guy was almost at the end of his rope when he was writing that,
and I think that he knew it.”

Sam nodded his head. “I agree. Now maybe you all have seen
more of these things . . . and more of the results of the sickness than I have.
But what I have seen leads me to believe that they ain’t going to get better.”

Michelle looked up at Andy.

“And you?” she asked.

Arching his eyebrows, Andy took a deep breath and let it out
slowly, half whistling between his teeth as it left. “Well, as much as it pains
me, I’m forced to agree with tweedledumb and tweedledumber,” he said, hiking a
thumb towards the backseat. “I’ve got no proof, but I have yet to see anybody
who got better. True, we’ve really only been knee deep in the turd field for a
short time, but nothing I’ve noticed makes me want to spend a lot of time
putting band aids on them and hoping they’ll feel better tomorrow. I think . .
. I really think that we’re following the best course of action. Michelle . . .
and Sam and Thompson . . . you all know that we’ve had some seriously bad
encounters with these things. Can you imagine if we would have tried something
warm and fuzzy as opposed to something fast and lead. I can’t. Now I don’t know
what stage or progression of the infection that guy was in, but I’d imagine
that, like a lot of other things, there is a point of no return. I think he
knew that he was getting close. Don’t get me wrong, I can certainly understand
how we’d want to be sure that we were doing the right thing, and I can’t
imagine the moral repercussions that would avalanche on us if it turns out
there’s a magic pill available at every corner drugstore that will fix em’
right up. I just don’t think so. Although, this train of thought leads me to
two others, and I think we need to have a quick . . .” Andy gave a sly look at
Sam before continuing, “Pow-Wow.”

Sam smiled at Andy’s joke and said, “What’s on your mind?”

“The first thing,” Andy started, “is that we need . . . right
here and now . . . to get this straight in our heads. We either shoot, or we
don’t. So far we’ve done OK, but I know that this line of thinking . . . the ‘whether
they’ll get better or not’ is going to make one, or all of us hesitate. And
that could get the rest of us killed dead. So I think we should all examine
ourselves and figure out what’s going to take precedence. We all need to be on
the same page.”

Glances were exchanged for a few moments as they each
contemplated the murky chaos of uncertainty. At length, Michelle hesitantly
volunteered her thoughts. “I . . . think . . . um, that is I’m . . .“ Her words
fell off into silence for a moment before she found them again. “Ummm . . . .I
guess at the center of it all, for me anyhow, is fear. Fear that someday I’m
going to become infected. And then what?  Will I know it?  Will I be aware of
the things I’m doing?  Will I hurt other people or maybe even one of you?  And
also there’s fear of what we’ve already become. Think about it, whether they
were infected or not, we’ve been slaughtering people. People. Does that not
make you cringe inside?  Just in the past few days our combined body count
would put us as some of the worst serial killers in the world. Who knows what
it will be by next week. This has all happened so fast that we’ve been caught
up in the adrenaline rush. But I think that inside each of us, we’re all scared.
We all want to be heroes, protectors. But at some point in the very near
future, what we’ve done, what we’re doing, is going to have to be paid for.”

Andy put a firm, yet gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have a
lot of wisdom for somebody so young, ‘Chelle. And I agree with you. We’re all
in survival mode, riding the tide of strangeness and disbelief. And yes, we’re
going to have to answer for what we’ve done. But you know what?  I think we’re
getting lost on what the question is. I don’t believe, given the current
situation as we know it, that the question should be ‘what have I done’? 
Instead, we should be asking ourselves ‘has what I’ve done saved a friend, or
myself, from harm?’ . . . and equally important . . . ‘am I prepared to do it
again?’”

Another ten minutes passed in silence. The additional bodies
and high heat setting was starting to make the climate inside the truck a bit
too warm. Finally, with a shrug of her shoulders and several deep breaths,
Michelle met each of their eyes. “I want you to know,” she began, “that I will
not hesitate. I think you’re right. I don’t think there’s a way back once
you’ve been infected. And I want you to promise me, each of you . . . that if I
do become infected, you will not let our friendship get in the way of you doing
what you need to do before I become a danger to anyone else.”

"I’ll give you that promise if you’ll do the same for me,"
Sam replied.

"Same here," Thompson added.

"And me," Andy said.

“All right then, let’s get moving,” Michelle said.

Thompson and Sam returned to the Explorer and followed Andy
as he drove down the road, windows open to equalize some of the sweltering heat
that had built up. A few more miles passed before they came to the section of
road where they had helped the lady in the minivan and her two children. Another
dozen miles went by before Andy tapped the brake, slowing down to about thirty.

“Look up ahead, is that the same place where the two RV’s
were . . . the place that we tried out the silenced 22?”

“I think so,” Michelle answered, “but it certainly wasn’t
like that.” Michelle grabbed the binoculars and focused up ahead on the
wreckage of what looked to be a dozen or more burned out cars and at least
three more large RV’s, all in addition to the pair that had been there earlier.

“Sam, hold up . . . we might have a potential problem up here,”
Andy said over the radio as he coasted
to a stop.

“Holding one-hundred meters back,”
Thompson answered.

“Anything?” Andy asked after a few moments.

“Wait a sec’ . . .” Michelle answered as she zoomed the
binoculars in and out slowly. “Outside of the obvious,” she finally said,
“something doesn’t look right.” Keeping her eyes scanning through the Nikon’s
as she talked gave her voice a slightly robotic cadence. “It looks to me like
this is not an accident. Just going by the angles of the wrecked cars, it looks
like they were put there. Like somebody set up a roadblock. And I do see
movement. There’s something crawling near the edge of the road on the right. I
can’t quite make it out, but I don’t think it’s a friendly.”

Andy relayed the information to Sam.

“Can we go around it?”
came the reply.

“Unknown. We’d have to get out and physically walk out in the
brush to make sure we wouldn’t run into any sinkholes or swamps. It’s been my
experience that once you get off the road you don’t go too far this time of the
year,”
Andy
answered.

“We’re coming in. We’ll pull directly behind you. Out.”

“Smart man,” Andy said.

“Why?  I mean he seems pretty sharp to me to,” Michelle said,
“but why did you say that now?”

“If he pulled beside us, and there were some hombres intent
on doing us some long distance harm from the barricade up there, well then both
of the vehicles and all of the occupants would be exposed. By pulling directly
behind us he’s eliminated half of the potential targets.”

Michelle merely grunted her understanding as she continued to
scan the barricade. A slight “tap-tap” on the tailgate alerted them that the
other two were behind them.

“Anything else moving?” Andy asked.

“Not that I can see. Just that same thing on the right. I
still can’t make out what it is though.”

“Let’s get out and talk to the boys,” Andy finished.

They gathered behind the rear of Michelle’s truck. Each of
them took turns with the binoculars, but none of them were able to add
additional insight to Michelle’s initial assessment.

“Well, we’ve got to go through there. Anybody got any ideas?”
Andy asked.

Sam looked at Thompson, specifically at the rifle he had
slung across his chest. “Is that thing full auto?”

Thompson shook his head and said, “No. Three round burst or
semi.”

“Are any of the other one’s full or select fire?”

“Nope, they’re all semi-automatic,” Michelle answered.

Sam asked for the binoculars again and studied the obstacle
for another ninety seconds before speaking. “OK, feel free to shoot this down
or suggest any improvements, but here’s what I’m thinking. There may be nobody
up there, at least not with guns. And I think that’s what we’re most concerned
with right now. The question of ‘did somebody set up an ambush, and are they
still there intent on causing harm?’  If nobody’s there, great. If it’s
infected people, then we deal with that however we can. No matter what, forward
is our path. So we need to see if there’s a way through, or around that mess. I’m
suggesting that Thompson and I each take a side of the road and work our way up
through the brush until we can get within range to make a better assessment. While
we’re doing that, you two get in position behind the trucks and be ready to
cover us. I think one of you should have Michelle’s high power rifle, and the
other should take Thompson’s M4. Do we only have the two walkie talkies?”

“Yeah,” Andy replied, “we only brought the two.”

“Hey Andy, are you forgetting why we came here originally?”
Michelle asked, beaming a knowing smile.

“Crap. I must be getting old. Sam, we’ve got a bunch . . . five
or six I think, of Fish and Wildlife radios in the back of the truck. So if you
want communications, we’ve got them.”

“Are they charged up?” he asked.

“No, the battery packs need charged, but they’ll also run on
AA batteries, and we’ve got enough to make that happen,” Michelle answered.

“Well, then let’s do it, unless somebody has a better idea,
because I’m colder than a well digger’s ass.”

“That’s what you get for not taking a change of clothes with
you when you got tossed in the pokey,” Thompson chided.

“Smart ass,” Sam replied. “Just for that, you get to go on
the right side of the road.”

Michelle peered through the scope of the Winchester at the
wreckage ahead. Nothing was moving that she could see. Even . . . whatever it
was on the right side of the barricade could no longer be seen. Thompson and
Sam had each taken a shotgun with them as they crept through the low weeds and
scrub brush. Michelle’s job was simple. Scan up ahead and watch for
unfriendlies. If they showed up and were hostile, drop them. Andy was using the
binoculars to keep track of Sam and Thompson’s progress, as well as providing a
second set of eyes on the barrier. So far, so good. At the halfway point, Sam’s
whispered voice came over the radio.

“OK, no contact yet. Although my side of the road is pretty
soupy. I don’t think there’s any way we’re going to drive in this stuff, even
with four wheel drive.”

“Same here. I’ve already sank over my boot tops more times
and I can count,”
came
Thompson’s reply.

Andy keyed the button on the third Fish and Wildlife radio
they had managed to supply batteries for.
“We’ve got zero movement, repeat .
. . we’ve got zero movement from here. Proceed with caution.”

Both of the scouts acknowledged with a
“10-4.”

Another five minutes passed before Sam transmitted again.
“I’m
directly in line with the pileup. Hold on the second . . .”

The second turned into almost a full minute before he came
back.
“Thompson, where are you?”

“I’m still about fifteen meters from the front side of the
barricade. There’s some thick shit over here that I’m trying to get through
without making too much noise.”

“Wait there.”

“OK . . . waiting here.”