In Harm's Way (5 page)

As they passed 905, the deceased couple’s door, he couldn’t help but envision Angela and Saul’s bloated bodies festering in their front room where he had deposited them. The memory of their undead two-year-old, arms flailing, desperately trying to attack him through the baby gate would haunt him forever. As if on cue, her little body slammed into the gate. The sound of her ongoing struggle resonated through the door and into the hall. Wilson winced, eager to put the reminders of yesterday’s events out of sight and earshot.

 “Stay close to me and do
exactly
as I say,” Wilson admonished his sister, who was a few steps behind and struggling to keep up. Even with the death chamber fresh on his mind, he still had to suppress a smile as she tottered along. Her favorite Louis Vuitton purse dangled from one arm, while two fake Coach handbags swung awkwardly, like leather pendulums, from the opposite arm. Her fully loaded swap meet treasures made her walk like Charlie Chaplin, which Wilson found a bit amusing.

After pausing outside of number 907, listening for anything to indicate that things weren’t all right inside, Wilson summoned his courage and knocked rapidly.

“Who is it?” a muffled voice inquired from the other side of the door.

“It’s Wilson.”
Use your peephole, genius
.

Ted opened the door after recognizing the familiar voice. “Come in guys.” The big bear of a man ushered them inside and promptly apologized for his partner’s scruffy appearance.

The two middle-aged men, whom Wilson and Sasha hadn’t met until after the apocalypse, were lucky to have been home, both sick with the flu, when the world went nuts. They had remained indoors, watching the mayhem unfold through their picture window and on television. William sat on the couch shivering even though he had layered himself with two fleece sweat suits. The thick fabric made him appear as bulked up as his partner.

“Ready to go?” Wilson asked, making a mental note to stay away from the sickly man.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Ted said, emerging from a back room hefting two full daypacks and wielding a wicked-looking black shotgun.

“I want to stay here,” William said, dabbing his handkerchief across his brow.

Ted spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable. “If we do not leave now we may never get the chance again.” He loved William to death, but he knew exactly what the lifelong martyr was about to say.

Before responding, William blew his nose and looked at Ted with glassy bloodshot eyes. “Just leave without me. The condition I’m in... I’ll just slow us down and get
everybody
killed.”

“We are out of what you
need
in here. We have to act now... or never.” The big man pointed at the closed curtains and the world outside. “We’ll find a pharmacy--maybe a Rite Aid or something as soon as we get out of the city.” Ted put the bags and the gun down, planted his hands on his hips, and waited for a response.

William blew his nose, silently glaring at his partner.

 “Let’s get the others,” Wilson said to Sasha in his best listen to me and do what I say voice. Being a manager at Fast Burger didn’t pay much, but it had taught him to be assertive when he had to. Time was dwindling and he was going with or without these two.
Hopefully with,
he silently reminded himself,
because there is strength in numbers
.

***

Ted asked Wilson and Sasha to go on ahead so he could have a moment of privacy with his partner. Since he had always worn the pants in the house, Ted was used to making most of the big decisions and it took him all of three minutes to browbeat William into submission.

Ted and William caught up with Wilson and Sasha in front of 909. Wilson had stopped there to see if the other four people were still going along with them to Colorado Springs.

Wilson had run into the thirty-something couple a few weeks earlier while he was working out in the building’s meagerly appointed gym. At the time he thought Megan was pretty hot for an older woman, and James seemed like a nice enough guy. James and Megan were sharing their condo with Lance and Cheryl, who also appeared to be somewhere in their thirties. They had arrived at the Viscount Arms two days after the Omega outbreak, with nothing but a couple of golf clubs for protection and the clothes on their backs. Before the outbreak Lance and James had worked for the same IT firm and regularly played golf together. Cheryl and Megan met at their husbands’ company Christmas party, clicked immediately, and had been best friends ever since. Lance and Cheryl considered themselves extremely lucky, somehow covering the three blocks from their loft to the Viscount, on foot and unscathed.

***

One day earlier

Viscount Arms Penthouse

The eight remaining residents of the Viscount Arms condominiums met amidst the construction debris in the vacant penthouse to plan their escape.

Wilson raided his mom’s nearly bare pantry to provide the canned food feast. Their candlelight dinner was relegated to room temperature Dinty Moore beef stew, canned peas, and a loaf of week-old bread
that was just starting to spot with mold.

The two bottles of Chianti which Ted brought to the informal meeting were received well and soon passed around.

Since the day Wilson moved back into the nest, Sasha considered it her job to test his authority, especially when their mom wasn’t around. Wilson quietly watched his sister as she boldly poured herself a small glass of the light bodied Italian wine. He was still learning when and where to pick his battles; therefore, considering the state of the world around them, he turned a blind eye and allowed his sister to win this particular skirmish.

While the small group of survivors “dined,” the undead herd made yet another appearance down below on Proctor Boulevard.

Everyone stopped what they were doing simultaneously, forks and glasses frozen in midair and failing to deliver their cargo. The clink of dropped silverware and the sounds of seats being pushed back echoed about the empty space as the group hurried to the windows to take a look.

Wilson, having already seen enough of the horde, waited until everyone had returned from the windows and taken their seats before he addressed them. He had to speak in his “manager’s” voice in order to be heard over the commotion outside. Once Wilson had everyone’s attention, he quickly spelled out how he and Sasha planned to escape from Denver. His thinking was that Colorado Springs would be safer than anywhere else in the state, mainly because of the large military presence in and around the city. He detailed how they were going to get out of the building and onto the freeway heading south. When he was finished, he made it clear that he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go and welcomed their input or questions.

Arms went up immediately and the picking apart of his plan commenced.

“I’m a little confused,” Megan said, adding a tilt to her head.

To Wilson her tone of voice made her statement sound more like,
you’re full of shit, kid
.

“So we’re in our cars and then we wait for the tail... that’s what you called it, right?” Megan asked.

Wilson wavered a moment, thinking it through, before he answered her question. “When the main group passes by, on the way to wherever the hell they go, there are always a couple of hundred stragglers. Compared to the size of the main body... I call that a tail.”
Who is this chick
, Wilson asked himself,
Greta Van Susteren?
He felt like he was being cross-examined. Gone were the days when his biggest worry was a bad secret shopper sent from the corporate office. Wilson didn’t want to lead these people. He just wanted to wake up, go to work, and, in the worst case scenario, maybe have to dress down one of the high school-aged employees because of a dirty Fast Burger uniform.

The others silently watched the exchange.

“There’s no power in the building... or the city, for that matter, and I’m assuming our pass cards won’t work at the gate. How do you propose we get out of the lot?” Megan asked, glaring at Wilson over the dancing flame.

“Good point,” Lance added.

Wilson began to feel pinpricks of pain from the seat of his pants. His butt had fallen asleep from sitting, much too long, on the plastic five gallon paint bucket masquerading as a chair. He straightened his back and shifted his weight, trying to coax the blood to flow back where it belonged and let silence dominate the room while he tried to collect his thoughts. Wilson made eye contact with the people sitting around the “table” before he delivered his rebuttal. His mom had taught him that looking a person directly in the eye while speaking to them was the best way to get their attention, especially when he wanted to be taken seriously. “I’ve already explored that
minor
detail. I think we’d all agree that power is usually the first thing to fail during a fire,
and
that it would be awful to find a few crispy tenants trapped behind that snazzy electric gate. I found the quick release levers; they are about chest high, one on each side.” He held his hand horizontally across his sternum. “It’s a safety feature designed to release the gate, and let it roll up, when the power is out.”
Touché, Megan
. Wilson smiled inside.

Megan remained silent while her girlfriend came to her aid. “Who’s going to pull the pins then?” the pretty blonde pressed.

Wilson swallowed, realizing he couldn’t remember the woman’s name. “If you’re not
driving
one of the vehicles... then
you
are pulling the pins. Congratulations... you get to be the heroine.”

William interrupted. “When do we leav...?” His question was choked off by a fit of violent coughing.

“When the dead let us,” Wilson replied solemnly,
eyes downcast.

Ted offered William a tissue and rubbed his back through the two tracksuits. Ted’s lips brushed his partner’s ear as he shared some quiet reassuring words.

By the time the group was finished talking, the candles had burned down to inch high nubs. The wax pooled and hardened on the slab door they had used as a makeshift table. It had taken the “running of the bulls” three hours to squeeze by the Viscount and another thirty minutes before they were out of earshot.

“When the sun comes up tomorrow we are going to be packed and ready. As soon as those things come by, Sasha and I are leaving.” Wilson scanned the others’ faces, searching for any doubting Thomases. “If any of you want to come along you need to be ready.”

Ted raised his hand as if Wilson were his teacher.

Wilson cocked his head, smiled, and called on his Paul Bunyan-looking neighbor. “Yes?”

“What makes you think they are coming back?” Ted asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

“I’ve been coming up here for the last five days trying to get a sense of what’s going on outside. Initially the creatures were very predictable--all they did was hunt for people like us to eat. During the last two or three days their movements morphed into what we are seeing now.” Wilson gestured to his old telescope and tripod standing next to the north facing windows. “Even though I can see farther with the telescope, the taller buildings make it difficult to see any of the surrounding streets.
So far, I haven’t been able to determine what route they follow or where they go, but the one thing I am certain of, day by day, is that their numbers have been growing
considerably
larger.”

James was silent for a tick while he processed the bad news. “If we go along, my truck isn’t big enough for all four of us,” James said, looking at Cheryl and Lance.

“What does Megan usually drive?” Ted asked.

“Our other car is a Civic. It usually has more gas in it than my truck. Lance and Cheryl can drive that I guess,” James answered slowly.

  “If I can’t figure out which vehicle belonged to the people in 905, Sasha and I will need a ride,” Wilson added.

“You and your sister can come in our car,” William offered.

“We might take you up on that, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Wilson didn’t want to have to explain how he got the couple’s car keys, let alone that he had killed Saul and Angela and didn’t have the balls to put their toddler down. Sarah’s pale mottled face and tiny snapping teeth haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

Wilson had taken the keys from the front pocket of Saul’s bloody jeans moments after he brained him. His next door neighbors were the first of the infected that he had seen up close and the first ones he had been forced to kill. Days later he was still trying to wrap his mind around how he had summoned the courage to do what he did... to do what was necessary to survive.

“We had better turn in,” Wilson said. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day.” Then he said a silent prayer, asking for some sleep without little Sarah starring in any of his nightmares.

Outbreak - Day 8

Schriever Air Force Base

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Cade Grayson stirred underneath the thin sheet. Army-issued sandpaper never felt so good. Compared to the previous six nights, this one might as well have been spent at the Ritz Carlton, or Sandals in Jamaica. He slept soundly, all the way through, without a cameo appearance or even the perceived smell of one stinking corpse--real or imagined--invading the sanctuary of some much needed REM sleep.