Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue (16 page)

The van was parked by a walled-in structure at the back of the house. Someone had screened in the back porch, and made a breezy room out of the patio. A chain-link fence lay in ruins a few yards away on the property line. Beyond that was thick, dark woods. The yard itself was covered in junk and other assorted garbage. A few fire pits had been dug in various places.

“People have camped out here before.” I looked all around the back of the yellow house. “They could be here now.”

Claire stopped. “Your call, John. Do we stay or not?”

“Got no choice. Let's see if we can get on the patio.”

We made our way to the brown door at one end of the structure. It was not designed for the outside, so it had some severe water damage. The waterlogged door bulged out of its frame. Claire took one side, and I took the other side near the knob. Lyle watched the rear. Claire and I each put our ears to the damp door and listened.

“You hear anything?” I asked.

Claire shook her head. “Nobody home.”

I took hold of the doorknob and, with a deep breath, gave it a turn. With great effort, I pushed the damaged door open. It nearly disintegrated as it opened. The patio beyond was dark.

I held out my hand. “Flashlight, please.” Claire handed me a light from her backpack.

I passed the beam from floor to ceiling and then wall to wall. It wasn't a huge space, less than twenty feet wide or so. An open grill stood in one corner opposite a few dead plants in terracotta pots. The only other furniture was a pair of moldy camp chairs. The rest of the patio floor contained assorted rusty junk.

“Looks clear,” I whispered. We all went inside. Claire tried to close the door, but it was too swollen to move. She looked at me and shrugged.

“It's okay. Leave it open,” I said. “We'll get some wood together and start a fire.”

Lyle was at another door, which I guess led to the kitchen of the house. “You want to try the house?”

Claire and I turned to look at the door. There was a faded, red “X” painted on it from top to bottom. Claire traced it with her hand. “What's the X mean?”

“I don't know. Maybe it was searched, and they found nothing inside,” I said. During the outbreak, search teams went door to door looking for survivors. They painted an orange or red skull on buildings containing zombies. Maybe the red  “X” meant clear.

Or maybe it was a warning painted by someone else.

“Let's not push our luck. We'll stay out here for tonight,” I said.

Lyle and I got some supplies out of the van and cleared a spot on the floor for a small fire. Claire gathered a few sticks of wood, and piled it in a small circle with a little kindling. A few sparks from my trusty lighter, and soon we had a small, but effective campfire going. It made the enclosed porch area a little smoky, but the open door provided a draft.

We all settled around the fire to warm up. Claire took off her wet gloves and rubbed her hands in the glowing firelight. “My hands are so chapped.”

“Check the backpack medical supplies for lotion or something. It may be in the first-aid kit,” I said.

Claire rooted through the backpack and found what she needed. She also threw a water and a few granola bars at me and Lyle. “Best I can do with the food,” she said. “But look what else I found.” Claire pulled a bottle of cheap booze out of the first-aid kit. She handed it to Lyle at her right.

Lyle turned the bottle over in his hand to read the label. “Wow. Used to buy this stuff at the gas station in the old days. Why is it in the first-aid kit?”

“Medicinal purposes only. Doctor Connelly packs it in all first-aid kits of anyone going outside. Kills bacteria and viruses that you pick up. Can also be used as a anesthetic, I guess.” Lyle threw me the bottle, and I twisted it open. “Under the circumstances, I don't think the Doctor would mind if we drank a little.” I took a quick swig, and handed the bottle to Claire who also took a drink. It was thick, and tasted a little like cough syrup as it went down.

Claire finished her drink, wiped off the lip, and handed it to Lyle. “That's lethal. Watch out.” She already had a case of the giggles. Claire never could hold her drink.

We sat for a while, staring at the fire and thinking about things. Lyle leaned back after taking a slug of cheap liquor, and said, “So...John. Do all your rescues go this smooth, or do they all wind up in the backyard of some house?” Claire looked away to hide her smile. Apparently, comedy hour had begun.

Lyle threw me the bottle, and I took pull on the bottle. “Actually, Lyle, I had a pretty good record of rescuing people.” I took another drink, and tossed the bottle to Claire. “I consider what we're going through right now a temporary setback.” We all shared a laugh. The cheap liquor was doing its magic.

The laughter faded into the night. Lyle took the bottle from Claire and had another drink. He kept it in his hand, and swirled the dark, vicious liquid around in the bottle. He seemed to be getting serious. “You know, Denise said something about your rescues in the past. Something caused you to stop going out to save people. What happened?”

Claire looked very uncomfortable. “It's a long story,” I said, playing with a piece of debris from the floor. “And it doesn't have a nice ending.”

“I'd like to know,” Lyle said. “If me and my people are going to live in Cannon Fields, we have to know all about you.”

“You really want to know?” I said, looking at Claire. She looked like she wanted to dig a hole and disappear, as I began. “Claire and I joined Cannon Fields about one year into its existence. They were living on food stocks that they had on hand. Eventually, the residents accepted us as one of their own. I settled down with my Karen, and Claire fell in love with Ryan. A few months later, we were living second lives. I was happy in my little home, and Claire was pregnant with Alex. We had both been given second chances.” Claire stared blankly at the fire.

“The following spring and summer were pretty rough. We managed to make a few rescues, but they were all people that were nearby. Lisa and Elizabeth's family were first, followed by a few more. Then, we had to stop rescues, at least temporarily.”

Lyle was hanging on my words. “Why?”

“Our leader, Denise, had a plan. We would grow and process our own food, and we would hunt in the woods for deer, rabbit, and whatever else we could find out there. We planted corn, vegetables, grains, and other assorted food in the open spaces of Cannon Fields. We were optimistic that we could at least supplement our food stocks, but the Alabama soil was unforgiving and the crops didn't grow very well. Our gardens failed, and the plants were all eaten by bugs, or wilted from lack of water. The hunting wasn't too good, either. All the animals just seemed to go away. Our hunters came back with nothing.”

“You began going through your food stocks faster than you thought,” said Lyle.

“Things got real bleak as summer turned to fall. Our food was really low by then. The prospect of starvation was tearing Cannon Fields apart. Denise had to make some real good speeches to keep us together. Some people left anyway. They just lined up and walked away. We never saw then again. For those that remained, we started skipping meals to save food. We all started to lose weight. I had to make a few new notches in my belt to keep my pants up. As fall turned to winter, we were all getting weaker.” Lyle handed me the bottle, and I took a drink. The cheap liquor was beginning to take on a sour taste that made me vaguely sick to my stomach. Claire was still staring into space. I think she was trying not to listen.

“The food got critical as December rolled around. We ate wild onions, herbs, and mushrooms from the woods. Sometimes we had an occasional rabbit or two as well, but they were thin with hardly any meat on them. Not to mention the resident Red-Eyes usually tore them up before we got to them. When spring finally showed up, I think someone actually made soup out of the dandelions in the fields. Tasted horrible, but it kept us alive.”

“But you made it through,” Lyle said.

“We were weak, but we managed to plant more corn, wheat, and vegetables. We scrounged for canned food in the stores, and cleaned out all the shelves everywhere we went. Some of us even went as far south as Birmingham, or west to the Georgia border to check for supplies. We stayed away from the north and Huntsville because the stories coming out of there were not good. Too many zombies on the hunt.” I paused for another drink. Claire's ice blue eyes were a little watery.

“We pulled together. We lost a few, and had to stand by while we burned their bodies to keep them from the zombies. We wouldn't have made it if we didn't stick together. We waited and hoped. The corn and wheat grew strong, and the vegetable gardens exploded with food. Even the animals came back. Sal the butcher was busy all spring and summer. We had a surplus, enough extra food even for the next winter. We weren't going to starve, and everyone started gaining weight again. There was a future for us. It was nothing short of a miracle.”

“And the rescues started again,” Lyle said.

“It was Doctor Connelly. She made a great speech about how we were all blessed, and about how we should share it with other people. She said the human race depended on it. Denise agreed, added something about how every person we add made us stronger. Sydney, our resident whiz kid, got the radio working. He hooked it up to car batteries, we found him a scrap antenna, and as soon as he flipped the switch, the calls for help came over the airwaves. We would pack up and go to the rescue. Got pretty good at it too. Like a crack squad, we would go in and scoop up all the people to bring them home. Ten perfect rescues in all, about thirty souls brought to Cannon Fields. It made us feel good. It made us feel like we were doing something, not just surviving. It was almost like we were pushing back the darkness. Then, the River Mills rescue came up.” I took a long swig of liquor and handed the bottle to Claire. The tragic end of my story was near.

“It was like all the others. Sydney picked up a frantic woman on the radio, calling for help. She said they were under attack by bandits from the road. We piled into our vehicles and hit the road. River Mills subdivision was the destination. We had never met them before. In fact, the call for help was the first we ever knew of them. We did our best, but got there too late. The battle was already over. We found nothing but the bodies. Men, women, and children...all dead. We thought we had failed, but we went house-to-house, looking for survivors, but found nothing. Then, right before we gave up and left, a survivor came out of one of the houses. He led us to the last remaining River Mills residents. Fifteen in all. Nine men and six women. They thanked us. Kissed our cheeks and gave us hugs. We put them in our vehicles and took them home.”

Claire grabbed the backpack and retreated into the darkness. Lyle watched her go. I continued my story. It was too late to stop now.

“We brought them home, and put them in quarantine. We had to make sure nobody was bitten. They accepted it with a smile. We fed them. Gave them new clothes and a place to sleep. We said good night, and locked them inside.”

“Something bad happened,” Lyle said. “Claire wouldn't have left the fire if everything turned out okay,” Lyle said.

I ignored him and went on with the story, anxious to finish. “During the night, they broke out of quarantine. They went to a few houses, stole weapons, and took our people hostage. Went down the streets taking people prisoner. Men, women, and especially children.”

“Christ,” Lyle whispered.

“We fought them in the streets, but we couldn't shoot at some of them because they had our kids in front of them as human shields. We managed to wound two before they broke into another house. 1201 Songbird Lane. The house on the corner. They broke in through the back door and barricaded themselves inside, with some of our people as hostages. We surrounded them, and Denise tried to talk them out of anything rash. They had been on the road too long and were unstable. Unreasonable demands for all of our food, water, and guns came out from their leader. Not some of our supplies, all of it. It was impossible. Denise tried to talk them down, give them a few supplies to make them go away. They didn't listen. And then...” I paused to brace myself for the conclusion to my story. Our story. The story of our ordeal.

“They started shooting the hostages. Our people. Right through the head. They tossed the bodies out while we watched, helpless to do anything. Our men, women, and even the children.”

“The children? How did it end?” Lyle said quietly.

“We stormed the house. Fought them room to room. Some of them escaped and tried to run, but we caught them. Dragged them back to the house, and we passed sentence right there in the front yard. No trial. No alternatives. One by one, we shot them through the head. Me, Ben, and a few others. We executed them. We shot them dead for their crimes, even as they begged for their lives. We killed them all as the residents watched. After it was done, we made a promise. As the rain came down, we promised ourselves that no one was going to hurt us again.”

“And the next day?” Lyle asked.

“We burned the bodies to keep the zombies away. Can't bury anyone these days or the Red-Eyes will come. We mourned our people, and we mourned what we had become. We crossed a line that day, and couldn't go back. A little more of our humanity had died. We thought we had it all figured out. We thought no one could touch us inside our gates, but we were wrong. The apocalypse had truly touched Cannon Fields, and we took our rightful place in the broken landscape. It took a while, but we managed to piece it back together. We still can't forget though. I still see the pain in everyone's eyes. One of the casualties was rescues. None of us had the heart to go out there anymore. We were afraid. Not just afraid of what was out there waiting for us, but that the massacre might happen again. From then on, rescue calls on the radio were ignored, and we tried to get on with our lives.”

Lyle was looking at me with wide eyes. “Why me? Why are you helping me?”

Smiling the best I could, I said, “Maybe it was time again. Time to not be afraid, I guess. And above all, the Doctor is right. The people left behind need to help each other, or the human race will disappear from the earth. I guess that's why we're helping people again.”