The Road to Macon: A Zombie Novel (14 page)

"Hey, Kyle," Abe said with little fear in his voice, "there are two more coming."

Kyle turned to see two extremely old women who were both infected. Both, like most who had been infected, were coated in darkish dried blood, and covered in bite wounds. One of the women, moving slowly, was dragged a walking cane behind her, it still being latched to her wrist. Her legs, feeble and shaky, took small steps as if she were remembering her own limitations. Slow though she was, her face was plastered with the effect of the virus, rage. A quick two shots ended their suffering.

Kyle, angry at himself for multiple mistakes, climbed down and checked the woman in front of him to make sure she was dead. Pity almost took hold of him looking at the old woman, but he knew she was gone when she became infected.

"My mistake guys, that should have been handled better," he said, looking around at the group. He almost wished they would denounce his actions and relinquish his control, but only understanding met his plea. Aggravated at himself, or the group, he didn't know, he said, "Okay, let's do this right and check out the back of the house where they came from before we go inside." In a tactical group, Kyle led them around the corner and to the back of the house where they found a two-story tin structure that passed for a garage. Standing in front was another infected, who remained clawing at a door in front of her.

"Don't kill her," came a muffled shout. Kyle stopped to look around him and waited to make sure that he heard something.

"I heard it also," James confirmed beside him.

"I think that's my uncle calling from the garage," Eric said, his voice full of hope.

Again the voice commanded from the direction of the massive garage, "Don't kill her."

"Well, what do we do?" Eric asked, looking at Kyle. Kyle thought that Eric's uncle must be thinking that this person wasn't infected, or could be saved, but he knew better.

"Take her out," Kyle said with little emotion, as he took a knee and raised his rifle carefully in front of him. Seconds passed as Kyle slowed his breathing and sighted the red dot of his holographic weapon’s site onto the old woman's head. He softly pulled the trigger and her head snapped forward. She fell forward onto the old door like a discarded plaything.

Before Kyle even regained his feet, an extremely thin old man pushed the door open despite the body pushing against it. He was dressed in well-used blue overalls, and a faded black and white flannel shirt. He had white hair that stood upright in a perfect horseshoe shape on his sun-speckled head. He checked the woman in front of the door, then turned and started walking toward the group. His face, like old leather, was a product of many years of toil in the sun.

"Who did it?" he demanded, actually rubbing one of his hands over a fist he was making.

"I did," answered Kyle. "She had been infected. There is no going back after that."

"Infected with what you blockhead? She was just sick but she would have gotten over it."

"There was no getting over it, she was gone," answered Kyle with finality.

Eric, seeing a moment to jump in, greeted his uncle. "Uncle Ben, it's me Eric. Jane's boy."

The old man took his time looking away from Kyle and noted Eric standing close to him. "Jane, don't' know her," he answered angrily, turning back to stare at Kyle.

"Uncle Ben, I know you know her," Eric said, getting angry at old man. "Stop being a fool and listen to what we have to say."

Ben looked at the Eric now with almost a smile, "Always said your mom let you run off at the mouth too much. You need the rod." At the mention of Eric's mom, he looked down, a gesture that wasn't lost on the old man. Ben, forgetting his anger at Kyle, went and put his frail-looking arm over the wide shoulders of Eric and led him away.

Kyle watched them walk away and shook his head in wonder. "Let's get the trucks back here and ready to leave."

The trucks were pulled to the backyard and lunch was eaten, mostly sandwiches that were made by Jasmine, along with some pork and beans someone provided. The group ate in the bed of one of the trucks, none of them wanting to stand around on the open ground. Ben, after moving the infected that Kyle shot, had taken Eric inside the large building and shut the door. Kyle figured they just need a few minutes to talk it over. He finished his bologna sandwich while listening to Patrick talk to his kids.

Eric didn't come out of the small door, but two large rolling garage doors that were built for large vehicles to pass through. He walked with Ben who seemed to be in much better spirits after talking his great-grand nephew. Eric gestured for everyone to come closer, then introduced everyone to the old man who insisted upon being called Old Ben. Eric told them that the old Peterbilt was in great shape and Old Ben said they could use it and that he would come with them. After this he hesitated and look at the old man, then Kyle.

"Only one problem, Professor," Eric said, nervously kicking one of his feet against the ground. He hesitated.

The Old Ben didn't pussy foot around it. "I got bit."

The group seemed to recoil from the news, Jasmine putting the kids behind her. Kyle, no less shocked, immediately put his hand on his 9mm. Eric saw this and raised in hands in a calming fashion, "Kyle, he's not sick. He was bitten yesterday, almost fourteen hours ago and still hasn't gotten sick. I think he's immune to it or something."

Kyle took in this news and tried to calm his thoughts. He was still tense, having his gun ready, but he tried to take a rational look at the old man. He looked down at his left arm that had a dirty bandage wrapped around it, "Is that where you got bit? How bad was it?”

"Bad enough son. Susan did it God bless her heart, but she didn't know what she was doing. What do you call it? Infected? Yeah, it changed her in less than an hour I would say. She and her old girls were having a lunch party and I was outside working in the garage. Didn't hear much of anything, don't have good hearing no more. Anyways, I started to yell out that I wanted some lemonade, she makes it fine, and she pops out of the door but she was wrong. Saw it right away. For one." He raised his hand in air counting off points, "She was walking too fast. Susan was slow as the hills, getting on in her late eighties, not as spry as me.

Anyways, she was walking faster than normal and was all disjointed like. Well, I go up to her but before I could even take a good look at her she just tries to bite me. I tried to stop her and got bit on the arm. Like an old hound dog too, just wouldn't let go. Finally, I got my arm out of her mouth but she near about chewed it off, and I took off and locked myself in the barn. Her other girls must have gotten it too, cause there was more than one banging. I figured she just needed to get to the doctor, but if what Eric says is true, I understand why you shot her."

"You haven't gotten sick at all?"

"Yeah, I got sick boy. Had me a fever last night, thought it must be the wound but when I woke up this morning I was right as rain."

Kyle nodded his head, turned to Eric and his great uncle, and he asked, "Give us a minute?" The two agreed and walked back toward the barn.

The group had listened to the story but most couldn't stop looking at his arm. They turned expectantly to Kyle, but he knew this wasn't a decision he could make on his own, nor did he want to. He turned to everyone else, careful to keep Old Ben in his peripheral vision. "What do you think? This has to be agreed on by everyone?"

"How long did it take thy guys from work to start going crazy after they were bitten?" Yolanda asked, looking at Kyle and Patrick.

"I think Brian was about thirty of forty minutes, and the same for the rest of them I guess," answered Patrick. He looked at Kyle to confirm. Kyle nodded, agreeing with him.

Yolanda followed up her thought, "He has been bitten for fourteen hours and still hasn't gotten infected. Could be he's immune. Who knows?"

"No one is immune to the zombie virus," Patrick interjected, again looking serious. Abe, beside Kyle, gave a laugh which came right after Yolanda's huff.

"Patrick, this isn't a zombie attack. This guy might be immune but do we want to take the chance?" Kyle asked. He had already decided what he wanted to do but he couldn't force his idea onto the group. Nobody answered his question. Like him, nobody wanted to face Eric with the bad news. "But maybe we can take precautions, keep him handcuffed and keep him with Eric. When he gets to the fort, we can put him in a cell for a few days to make sure he's safe.”

Kyle looked around the group to smiling , nodding faces that were happy to have a happier option. Yolanda just shrugged and started walking away with James. Abe walked closer to Kyle and whispered, "I saw what you just did."

Kyle turned to look at his smiling brother. Abe went on, "Mom used to ask us a question that we didn't have an answer to, she would let us think about it for a minute then offer a solution as if she just thought of it." Abe laughed tauntingly, slapped his brother on the back, then walked over to his finish his food.Abe was walking along the tree line at the back of Old Ben's house trying to scan for any infected that might be in the area. ‘Guard duty’ Kyle called it. Eric and his dogs were somewhere in the front yard keeping watch there. Abe was feeling much better now that he was with a group. Facing the uncertainty of the situation yesterday, along with the infected, had been tough to say the least. He was still scared, but he figured he would just have to learn to deal with that.

He understood a little now what soldiers had to deal with living in a combat zone; no real time to relax, to feel safe, always on edge. He thought about the fort his brother kept talking about. He hoped it was as good as Kyle said because they needed it. Kyle had told him that he had been there but he couldn't remember. Kyle had convinced their parents to visit many historical places and they were all a blur to him. All he remembered was being angry that he had to go. He smiled at the fights that it led to when they were younger.

He knew they would be leaving soon and he was ready for it. He had seen Kyle walking with Old Ben, who was already grudgingly handcuffed, around the large garage. He had also poked his head in before he went on guard duty and saw the truck that they would be taking. It was an antique semi that had been painstakingly restored, and Abe had to admit that it looked good. It was a 1960 Peterbilt 281 that Old Ben had painted shiny black. It had none of the grace of modern semis, but rather looked like a work truck, one that could take the blows and keep trucking. Abe liked the five shiny silver horns that adorned the roof of the cab, and thought that the steel bumper in front might come in handy. To Abe it looked like Optimus Prime's grandfather. Old Ben had called the truck Pete, and talked about it more fondly that he did of Eric.

Abe heard the call and walked back over to where the others were forming. He shouldered the rifle, thankful to take the weight off his fatigued arms, and joined everyone else. He listened to the plan that Kyle was explaining. Apparently, they were going to go around the back way to avoid the roadblock they had seen to avoid any more trouble. Abe had to agree with that, he didn't need any more rednecks pointing their guns in his face. The short meeting broke up and Abe walked to get in his truck, trying to remember what his truck number was again, he had been teased enough about his those silly ‘all calls.’

Kyle was leaning back in his seat and watching the scenery as they drove. Fields that had produced in the summer were now lying dormant, spent plants that had been harvested were now plowed under so that the soil could reclaim them. It remained overcast, the sun seeming to have fled, taking warmth and light along. Kyle was tense and unsettled. Night neared, bringing infinite darkness to a world in distress. They had been lucky he knew to have not lost anyone, especially at Old Ben's place, the fault was his. He needed rest, to think, to plan, to stand back from circumstances and gain a broader picture. He would feel better with the solid walls of Macon between them and the turmoil that engulfed the world. He watched as the slumbering fields gave way to tall long needle pines that swayed in the gloom of the day. They seemed ominous as he watched them pass by his view. The needed to get to the fort.

He turned to look at Yolanda, her concentration on the road, making her brow almost one with her eyes.

"Why not drive with James?" he asked. He had been glad to have some companionship on the drive but almost felt bad for James. It was always nice to go through the bad times with someone, made it easier knowing someone else was sharing the same burden.

"Just thought I would mix it up," she replied, not looking at him.

"I'm fine Yolanda," he said. "You don't have to worry about me." He hoped that was true.

She turned to look at him, "Don't be a woman, Professor. I'm not worried about you, but you've killed a lot of people in the last few days. Want to see if you wanted to talk about it."

He was warmed by her caring and responded truthfully, "It would sicken me if I thought too much about it. Probably. I'm not going to though. Dwelling on things like that is only a pit. It would stop me from functioning in the future. I said it would sicken me, but I don't feel guilty about doing it.”

She again turned her head to look at him. "Good enough, Smalls."

The peace again returned to the truck as the small convoy made their way to the coast. He could almost be convinced that the world hadn't gone crazy, that it was a strange dream he was in. He had always enjoyed a good fantasy, he had replayed winning the lottery fantasy on many a trip. Fantasizing about this wouldn't help he knew, the world was a cold place at the best of times. Just have to man up and deal with it.

The radio came to life in the truck, "We got what looks like a roadblock up ahead. Or at least
was
a roadblock. Looks like something is wrong.”

“So much for avoiding roadblocks,” Kyle thought and picked up the radio, "All right, lets pull over and take a better look before we get too close.”

"Copy that."

The old Peterbilt truck in front of Kyle and Yolanda started to slow down and merged to the right of the road. Kyle waited until it came to a complete stop and jumped out of his truck in a combat stance. He didn't see any infected, but it was better safe than sorry. He walked back and checked in with the other trucks, then turned around and made his way to the tractor.