Author: Brett Battles
Category: Thriller
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“Since those damn containers opened up. Frank picked me up at home and put me in here.”
“What…what can I do for you?”
“Nothing.”
He turned away.
She looked around, unsure what to say or do. The man was trapped inside. Once he stepped out, he’d catch the flu. Her gaze fell on the air tanks. The gauge on one was completely empty, and the other was heading in that direction.
“You know where they store the air tanks?” she asked. “You’re almost out. I’ll get you another one.”
“No. Please don’t.”
“But you’ll suffocate in there.”
“Please. Leave it. It would just be putting off the inevitable.” He paused. “Frank only put me in here because it made him feel like he was doing something.” He looked at her again and stared for a moment. “Why aren’t you sick?”
“I don’t know.” She paused. “How about food? Do you need any?” She wasn’t sure how she could get anything to him without letting some of the virus through.
He nodded at the cabinet next to his bed. “I have more than I need.”
Frank had apparently set him up well.
She turned for the door. “I’m going to get you a new tank.”
“No! Please don’t! What happens when that one runs low? Are you going to come back? And what about when there are no more tanks? I appreciate the offer, but you’re only trying to make yourself feel better. If you hook up another tank, I’ll rip down the wall and die that way. If you don’t, at least I’ll have a different option.”
For several seconds, Martina didn’t move. Finally she headed for the door.
“Please!” he yelled. “Let me be!”
Entering the hallway, she figured the storage room would probably be to the left since she didn’t remember seeing anything like it in the other direction. But was the man right? Would she only be changing the tank for her own peace of mind?
As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew the answer to the question.
She found Riley waiting outside a minute later.
“Finally!” Riley said. “Did you find anyone?”
Martina shook her head. “You were right. We were too late.”
THE WEBERS’ PLACE was located in a small housing tract off Ridgecrest Boulevard, almost due south of the high school. Riley was leaning forward, nearly touching the dashboard as they rounded the corner onto her street.
Her house was near the middle of the block.
“I don’t see our car,” Martina said. Mr. Weber had used Martina’s parents’ car to bring Laurie back to Ridgecrest.
“Dad probably parked it in the garage,” Riley said.
Martina didn’t saying anything.
As the car rolled to a stop in the driveway, Riley threw her door open and jumped out.
“Hey, wait!” Martina yelled before hopping out after her. “Wait!”
Riley stopped and looked back.
“Maybe I should go in first,” Martina suggested.
“Why?”
Did Martina really have to explain it? She stared at her friend, hoping to silently convey what she meant.
“I’m fine,” Riley said. “Whatever we find, I’ll deal with it. But I’m not waiting out here.”
She tried the front door but it was locked. Before Martina could ask if she had a key, Riley sprinted toward the corner of the house.
“We can get in through my window,” she yelled.
Her bedroom window was located along the side, right before the point where the backyard fence met the wall. With practiced ease, she popped the screen out, and pushed in on her window so that even though it was locked, the latch cleared the frame.
“I take it you’ve done this before,” Martina said as they climbed inside.
With a quick nod, Riley moved to her bedroom door. “Dad? Laurie?” she called as she raced into the hallway.
The search was quick and unsatisfying. No one was home.
“Where are they?” Riley asked. She paused mid-step and whipped her head around. “We didn’t check the garage.” She ran through the kitchen, opened the garage door, and disappeared inside.
When Martina entered the garage a moment later, she found Riley standing in the empty space.
“Why aren’t they here?” Riley asked. “If they’re not at the hospital and not home, where…where…”
Martina thought her friend might start crying again, but Riley’s eyes remained dry.
“Maybe he saw that the hospital was too busy,” Martina said, “and took her to Bakersfield, or even Palmdale.”
She didn’t actually believe that, but she felt compelled to give her friend some hope. What she really thought was that they probably would never know.
Riley didn’t seem to hear her, though, as she continued to stand in the middle of the room.
Martina gave her another moment, then walked over and put an arm around Riley’s shoulder. Slowly she guided her friend back into the house and sat her on the couch.
“Let me get you some water,” she said, heading into the kitchen.
She opened a cabinet looking for a glass, but instead found bottles of tequila and rum and whiskey. Though she had never really taken to alcohol herself, she knew it had a way of relaxing people. Not knowing if one type would be better than another, she pulled down the closest bottle, Absolut Vodka, found a glass, and poured a healthy dose into it.
Back in the living room, Riley was still catatonic. Martina raised the glass to the girl’s lips and dribbled a little into her friend’s mouth. Riley sputtered, pulled away, and looked at Martina.
“What the hell is that?” she asked.
“Vodka.” Martina lifted the glass again. “Come on, another sip. It’ll make you feel better.”
Riley scrunched up her face as Martina helped her take another sip, then she took control of the glass and tipped it all the way up so everything poured in quickly. When she was done, she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, her body tensing.
“That was not pleasant,” she said.
“You want another?” Martina asked.
“No way.”
Martina scrutinized her. “How do you feel?”
Riley considered the question. “Better, I guess.” She paused, her eyes widening a bit. “Yeah, definitely better.”
Martina stood up. “I’ll get you some water now.”
“Thanks.”
When Martina returned, she found Riley lolled back against the couch, asleep. She repositioned her so that Riley was lying on the couch, and then draped a blanket over her. Finding a piece of paper in the kitchen, she wrote a note and put it on the coffee table so that Riley would find it if she woke up.
Running out for a bit. Won’t be long.
Martina
She wanted to check out the hunch she’d had on the highway, and hoped to God she was right.
A few minutes later, she was heading west on Ridgecrest Boulevard, and not long after that, she passed the city limits into an area where the houses were more spread out, with acres of desert land between them. When she reached Jack’s Ranch Road, she turned north, then east again at Horseshoe Lane. The house she was looking for was on the right side, about a quarter mile from the intersection. Like many of the homes in the area, it was two stories and surrounded by trees planted when the house had been built.
She tried not to get her hopes up as she turned onto the dirt driveway, but she couldn’t help herself.
Please let me be right.
Nearing the house, she noticed something odd along the side that hadn’t been there last time she visited. It looked like someone had been digging.
She stopped, turned off the engine, and climbed out of the car. The stillness of the house made her realize she was probably in for a disappointment. A part of her wanted to get back in the car and drive away. At least that way, the possibility of being right still existed.
Just check, she told herself.
The desert
sand crunched under her feet as she approached the house. Her plan was to go right up to the front door and check if it was open, but she was pulled off course as she got a better look at the disturbed ground she’d noticed while driving up.
There were five roughly rectangular mounds of dirt, side by side.
Graves, she realized. They couldn’t be anything else.
Five graves, not six. Of course, the last to die wouldn’t be able to dig his own. Still…
“Noreen?” she called. “Noreen, are you here?”
She jogged to the small covered stoop at the front door and tried the handle. It was locked, so she pounded on the door.
“Noreen! Are you home?”
As she was about to knock again, there was an explosion above her and several dozen thud-thud-thuds on the grass behind her.
“Whoever you are, get the hell out of here!” The familiar voice came from above.
“Noreen! What are you doing?”
“Get out of here!” The gun blasted again.
“It’s me, you idiot! Martina! Stop shooting at me!”
A pause. “Martina?”
“Yes! Why are you shooting?”
“You’re…you’re not sick?”
“No!”
Martina decided to chance looking out from under the porch’s roof. Her friend was leaning out of a second-story window, a double-barreled shotgun pointed at the ground.
“Martina!”
“Who the hell did you think I was? A zombie or something?”
“Well…I, um…”
Martina realized that was exactly what her friend had been thinking. “For God’s sake, put that thing away! There’s no reason to shoot anybody! This isn’t a video game!”
Noreen sheepishly pulled the gun inside.
“Get down here!” Martina told her.
When the door opened a few seconds later, the girls hesitated for a moment, and then threw their arms around each other.
“Oh, God. I thought I was the only one,” Noreen said. “I thought I was all alone.”
“You mean you and zombies,” Martina told her.
“You, uh, could have been one.”
Martina pulled back from the embrace, but kept her hands on her friend’s arms. “No, I couldn’t have been. There’s no such thing. There’s the dead, the dying, and us. No walking corpse that wants to eat you.”
“They only eat brains.”
“Noreen!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. But what was I supposed to think? I’m sleeping on my bed, and suddenly someone’s knocking on my door.”
Martina smiled as she shook her head and pulled her friend into another embrace. Noreen had always had a vivid imagination, fed by a steady diet of horror films, manga comics, and time on her Xbox.
When they pulled apart again, Martina said, “Have you checked on the others?”
“What others?”
“From the team.”
Noreen looked like she didn’t understand. “The softball team?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Don’t you get it? It’s why you and I are alive.” Martina could tell it still wasn’t sinking in. “The flu last spring. It’s the same thing killing everyone now. We lived through it, and it made us immune.”
It took a moment before hope dawned on Noreen’s face. “You think so?”
“I’m not a scientist or anything, but you’re alive and I’m alive. Don’t you think we should check and see if the others are, too?”
AT FIRST, THE search was as fruitless as the one for Riley’s father and sister. Some of their friends’ homes were completely unoccupied, while others were serving as the final resting place for one or more bodies. None of the dead, however, were their old teammates.
Once they finished the east side of town, they headed across town on China Lake Boulevard toward Valerie Bechtel’s house, up the hill near the college. As they passed the intersection with Ridgecrest Boulevard, Martina considered checking on Riley, but decided it would be better to let her sleep.
“Hey,” Noreen said, looking out the front window. “Isn’t that Jilly’s car?”
Martina followed her friend’s gaze. It did look like Jilly’s car. It was parked in a lot between Wienerschnitzel and Carl’s Jr.
“And that’s Amanda’s next to it,” Noreen said. Amanda was another from the team. “And Martha’s, and…and I think that’s Valerie’s.”
Martina pulled into the lot and parked in an empty spot next to Carl’s.
“Of course, this is where we’d find them,” Noreen said, almost giddy.
Carl’s had been one of the team’s favorite hangouts.
As they climbed out of the car, they could hear loud music blasting from inside the restaurant but couldn’t see anyone, as most of the dining area was tucked around the side of the kitchen, out of sight.
With a shared grin, they jogged over to the entrance and pulled the doors open.
The music wasn’t just loud. It was blaring.
Katy Perry, “Last Friday Night.”
Martina and Noreen peeked into the dining area. In the back corner, crowded around the table the team always claimed whenever possible, were eight girls with food and drinks spread out in front of them.
Martina held Noreen back until the song was finished, then gave her a tap on the back. They stepped out where they could be seen.
“You should be careful,” Martina said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “The manager will kick you out for playing the music that loud.”
Head twists and shocked stares.
“Holy shit,” someone said.
The words broke the trance and suddenly the girls were up and rushing toward Martina and Noreen.
At some point as Martina passed from one embrace to another, she began to laugh. It wasn’t that she could forget her family was dead, or all the other things she had seen.
But for this moment, this one precious moment, she was happy again.
Nineteen
NEAR CAMP KILEY, COLORADO
3:41 PM MST
JACK CUTROY HAD gladly taken his reassignment. Anything would be a relief after days of finding only the dying and the dead. What had surprised him, though, was that the call with his new orders came from William Ownby, chief of the entire Boulder Fire Department. It turned out there was only a handful of personnel still on the job. From the sound of Ownby’s voice, Jack had guessed it wouldn’t be long before the chief went home, too.
“Need you to gas up your vehicle, then get over to the C&M Clinic,” Ownby instructed. “You’re on escort duty.”
“What kind of escort duty?”
“That girl you picked up, Ellie Gaines. She passed her test.”
“Test?”
“She’s negative for the Sage Flu.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. She was stuck in there with her parents for who knows how long.”
“Well, she’s clean,” his boss said, sniffling. “There’s a place near Colorado Springs called Camp Kiley. They’re taking in kids who test negative but have nowhere to go. Need you to take her there.”
Jack and the girl had now been on the road for nearly three hours. With the roads all but deserted, they were making great time, and were only about half an hour away from the camp.
He glanced over at Ellie, strapped into a car seat on the passenger side of the cab. “You doing all right?”
She nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Need to go to the bathroom?”
A shake this time. “Uh-uh.”
“Thirsty? Hungry?”
More shakes.
Through the whole exchange she never once looked at him. Not surprising. She had to be scared out of her mind.
Jack focused back on the road and winced, his head hurting again. He’d taken a couple aspirin in Boulder before he’d donned his biosuit again, and it had helped for a while, but now the headache was back with a vengeance. Once he dropped the girl off, he could take a
few more and maybe even find someplace he could sleep for a while. That would make him feel better for sure.
He really wished he could take off the hood. He knew keeping it on wasn’t helping his head at all, but keeping the suit was an order from on high, this time to protect the girl in case he was carrying the virus.
Of course, he wasn’t; he knew that. He still felt great. Well, he did have the headache, sure, but that was from overwork and lack of sleep. Still, orders were orders, and he’d been trained well enough to stick to them even if he didn’t think they were necessary.
He checked the GPS, ten curving-up miles left.
“Won’t be long now,” he said.
FROM THE TIME Brandon had arrived at Camp Kiley the day before, through the middle of the morning that day, cars and vans had come pretty much every few hours with new kids, sometimes just one, sometimes more.
The last had dropped off its passengers around ten thirty, but since then there had been no more deliveries. That was why the sound of an approaching vehicle made everyone perk up.
The truck that appeared out of the forest looked to Brandon like the kind EMTs used.
Loni, who had taken to staying close to him, asked, “How many?”
“Can’t tell,” Brandon said, only able to make out a man in protective gear behind the wheel.
As soon as the truck stopped, Sergeant Lukes jogged out and motioned for the driver to roll down the window. The two talked for several minutes, with the driver handing out a piece of paper at one point.
While all this was going on, Brandon, with Loni silently tagging along, worked his way close to where the other supervisors were waiting. Right after he got there, Sergeant Lukes finished his conversation and walked over to his colleagues.
“A girl,” he said. “Five years old. Goes by the name Ellie.”
“Just the one?” Mrs. Trieb asked.
“That’s it.”
“Where from?”
“Boulder.”
“Blood test?” Mr. Munson asked.
The sergeant handed over the piece of paper he’d been given. Several of the supervisors looked it over. When they were through, Mrs. Trieb nodded. “All right. Looks good.”
The sergeant moved back to the truck, this time heading for the passenger side, and opened the door. He leaned in for a few seconds. When he backed out, the girl was in his arms. She looked frightened.