Vaccination (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

West Ridge Road resembled a war zone. The I-390 over pass had cars bumper to bumper, up on the sidewalk, and facing the wrong direction. Shattered glass, a muffler, quarter panels and a rear bumper clogged most of the street. In short, the road looked like I felt. My head was cluttered. My hopes so high, I was forced to
rein them in, settle them down. It was, after all, merely a guess. I had no idea if my kids were at my apartment, if Charlene would have thought to go there. It was what I wanted to believe, that if she was going to feel safe anywhere, it would be with me.

Dave led us. He climbed on hoods, slid down them, and up onto the next. I helped Allison, lending a hand for
support, as she’d hoist herself up and over and down each vehicle. Then I’d labor my way over, and onto the next. We had little left. We must resemble zombies ourselves. We moved slow and sluggish, with jerking motions. We were covered in blood. Josh’s blood. Our own. We stunk of body odor, not death. Or maybe the stench of death was on us, and I’d just grown so used to it, I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“I can’t keep going,” Allison said. “I just can’t.”

I could see Stone Road. Three lights away. We were almost there.

“Please, dear. Please. We’re almost home,” I said.

She stopped. Her arms flat at her side. Her head cocked to one side. “Home? We’re almost home?”

I pursed my lips.

“Chase, we’re almost nowhere. We’ve gone in a huge circle. We’ve spent days going like fifteen miles. Days. We’ve walked. Run. We’ve driven, and in the last few days we’re only about four miles away from where we started. How in the hell are we going to make it to Mexico? On foot? We going to walk like two-thousand miles? We don’t know that Mexico is even safe, that there aren’t any zombies there. We saw that news report. The D.C. is in shambles. The military was setting up safe camps, but do we even know where they are? Do we even have a clue where one of them is located? We’re in New York, and we’re fucked, Chase. Fucked. I want you to get your kids. To have them with you. I want that. More than you might know, or even fucking believe, but home, Chase? Home?” She shook her head. She snickered. “I don’t think we’re almost home. I think we’re almost nowhere.”

“Guys,” Dave said.

I turned my attention his way. I saw what he saw. It was a mob. No other word described it. We’d encountered gangs, and managed to get by hordes, but what was ambling its way east along Ridge Road was nothing short of a mob of zombies. If the wind had been blowing in our direction, I’d guarantee we’d smell them. No way could that much rotting flesh go undetected, even by the laziest of nostrils.

“I love you, Allison.”

That stopped her. She closed her eyes. Her head shook slightly from side to side.

“We’re going to need to hide, or something,” Dave said.

“You what?” Allison said.

“Ah, guys?”

“I love you,” I said. “I think I’ve known it for a while. I just couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t let myself believe it, that it could happen to me. I don’t trust that emotion. Not even a little.”

“Say it again.” She smiled. Despite the mob. Despite the desperation of it all.

“I’m an ass, Alley. A fool. I could have lost you so many times by not telling you how I feel. And I wouldn’t have blamed you if you walked away from me. Wouldn’t hold it against you now. But, it’s important to me to tell you now that I love you. That I really don’t ever want to be without you. I’m in love with you.” I stood there. Not sure what I was waiting for. She told me all the time that she loved me. It had always been awkward. I never replied with anything shy of,
give me a kiss
, or
you’re the best, baby
.

Her arms shot up. They wrapped tight around my neck. Her lips puckered and planted tight on my mouth. “You have my heart, Chase. All of it. You always have. I’ve waited so long to hear you say it, that you love me.”

Inwardly, I sighed. “I love you.”

It felt good. Felt right. Telling her made my own heart skip a beat. Flutter.

“This is so cute, so freaking awesome. But, and maybe this is just me, if we don’t fucking move now, we’re, well, I guess, we’re . . . dead.”

I put my hands on Allison’s shoulders. “I need you. I love you, and I need you. We can do this. Together. It’s the only way we’re going to get through this. Any of it. All of it. Okay?”

She bit down on her lip, nodded.

I spun around. “Got a plan, David?”

His eyes opened wide. “Me?”

“You. Yes, you. Have a plan?”

He tried to hide a smile. Not sure if his opinion, if his ideas or suggestions were often sought. It was kind of putting him on the spot. The more I looked, the more I realized the situation appeared a bit less than hopeless. We were on a bridge. The mob might be moving slow, but it was in our direction, leaving us little choice for paths toward an escape.

“They’re pretty close,” Dave said.

“And the plan is what? What are we going to do?”

It looked hopeless. Completely hopeless.

Dave’s face contorted, he looked determined.

“Dave?”

“I’m thinking. I’m thinking.”

“We’re running out of time.”

“The shadows,” he said.

“The shadows?”

“Let’s move to the right. Cross the bridge. Get into the trees beside the expressway ramp, from there we can go behind the Distillery, and wait until the monsters pass,” he said.

I looked at the trees. Wasn’t enough to call them a forest. Thick enough to seek cover in, deep enough to hide behind. Only problem I saw
, was that the trees were on the south side of Ridge. Stone was on the north. We’d be headed in slightly the wrong direction. It was significant, though. Getting from point A to B was not a straight line any longer. The shortest distance was turning out to look more like a connect-the-dots game. There was nowhere to go on the left though. The exit ramp, the vacant restaurant parking lot, then Famous Dave’s and Starbucks. Going to the right, as much as I didn’t want to, made the most sense.

I nodded. “Okay. I like it. As long as they haven’t seen us, we might be okay,” I said, agreeing.

“Really?” Dave said.

“Really. You lead the way. You’ve done a good job so far,” I said.

“Okay,” he said, “follow me.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

We bent forward while we ran. Staying low. Using the disabled vehicles for cover. We crossed the bridge that ran over I-390. Dave, Allison and I looked both ways before darting past the eastbound expressway exit ramp, and were in the woods. Best I could tell, undetected.

The leaves did crunch underfoot. A plus. There was all that rain to thank for that. The mush and mud wasn’t great. I felt the ground suck at my dress shoes. Didn’t care if they got dirty. Just didn’t want them pulled from my feet.

“Help, please. Help!”

We stopped. Looked at each other.

“Where’s that coming from?” Dave said.

“Not that close,” I said. The voice, clearly a female, echoed. “Other side of the trees?”

Allison kind of shrugged, shaking her head. “Could be.”

“We have to find her,” I said. I know it sounded heroic, chivalrous-like. And it was. I did care. But her yelling was going to get all of us in trouble, too. Whoever was yelling for help had no idea what kind of swarm was headed in our direction. “That way,” I said.

We cut diagonally through the trees, could see the end, only yards away. The Distillery parking lot was full. Just east of it were both an Applebees and Olive Garden. This small section of Greece was like restaurant central. And I was hungry. Very, very hungry.

It still seemed a bit funny to me that we stayed armed with garden tools. One would have thought we’d of come across weapons. Guns? Machetes? Harpoons? Anything. Guns had to be out there. It’s all that was in the news as of late. Civilians and their personal armory stashes.

I loved my shovel, felt good in my hands, and now I had one of Josh’s hand shovels in my back pocket, too. Dave’s pitchfork was tough. He had Josh’s other hand shovel. And Allison seemed to have mastered the multitude of hedge clipper uses.

We must have resembled crazed farmers scampering between trees and out into the back parking lot of the Distillery.

The woman still screamed. Not constant. Not always calling for help. She was clearly in trouble. Being chased, was my guess. We needed to hurry.

I chanced a look up at Ridge Road. We were at least a few hundred yards from the main street. Behind the restaurant was a Hampton Inn. Cars in the lot. From here,
without the burst of cries and screaming, it looked peaceful. Not much different from the Marriott, just smaller.

“There she is.” Dave pointed.

The woman wore a grey knee-length skirt, what once must have been a nicely pressed white blouse. She carried heels in one hand as she ran in the grass, toward Hoover Drive. A fast zombie in a dark business suit, complete with a thin black tie, was right behind her. He reached for her, swiping passes with bloated blue hands. She serpentined. Left. Right. Doubling back. Good moves. She was like an over-dressed running back. Her shoes the ball.

We ran at her. At the businessman. Dave had his pitchfork tines out front, ready to thrust them through the zombie. The closer we got to
them; I raised my shovel, ready to bat his head into the outfield. Allison just ran, her clippers in one hand, not worrying about readying her weapon until the last minute, less it slow down her approach.

Just feet from saving her, the businessman won.

He tackled her, and tried to bury his head onto her shoulder. She let out a blood-curdling scream and arched her back and bucked him off her.

Dave reached them first.

He drove the pitchfork into the guy’s back and hoisted him off the fallen woman as easily as bailing hay. Thick black blood oozed from the puncture wounds. Dave leaned his weight onto the fork, not letting the zombie roll over, stand up, or move at all.

Allison stood in front of Businessman’s head. She spread the clippers wide. She got into a stance, one foot by each of his shoulders. Almost like eyeing a putt, she dropped the teeth of the clippers low, a blade on either side of
its neck, and chopped. Hard. It did not cut off his head. It did bite into his throat, severed arteries. She repeated the process, over and over and over.

I held out a hand.

The woman took it. Her other hand was pressed onto her upper chest, just below the shoulder. Blood stained the blouse, where before some bleach and cold water might have washed out the dirt and grass stains.

“Were you bit?”

“No. It’s not my blood. He didn’t bite me. I’ve been in there, in the back office, locked in the back office for days now. Days. I just wanted to sneak out. Get something to eat,” the woman said. She babbled. She shook. Shock, I thought. She’s going into shock. “The kitchen was close. I’d done it earlier. Should have grabbed more food. I just took what I could carry. I needed more. The monitors showed it was clear. No one was in the halls. I didn’t see anyone in the hallway.”

Her name-tag read,
HELLO, I AM SUES MELIA
.

“Sues?” I said. I pronounced it like zoos, with an “S.”

She stopped talking. Stared at me.

I pointed to my chest, and looked at where her name-tag was pinned to her blouse. She looked down, snorted out a laugh.

“Are you okay?” I said.

I heard it first. In the silence that surrounded us, it was like thunder.

“He almost bit me,” she said.

She pulled at her blouse.

I stuck my fingers into the holes of her blouse and tore the fabric, pulling the sleeve clear off. She gave me a harsh look, brows furrowed.

“That was an expensive blouse.”

“It was ruined, Sues. I just wanted to be sure your skin wasn’t broken.”

She opened her mouth to say something else. I held up a finger.

“I don’t care about the blouse. Really, I don’t. I just, you know what?  I just don’t want to change. I don’t want to become one of those things. Because, you know, he almost bit me.”

“But he didn’t. I don’t see any broken skin. We’ll keep an eye on it. But I think you will be okay,” I said. I had no way of knowing.
I made my hand into a fist. Stop. Listen.

“Should I cut my arm off? Will that--”

“Shhhh,” I said.

Dave looked around. Looked up.

Allison pointed. “There it is!”

It was the steady
thump, thump, thump
of a rotor blade. A white helicopter with a green stripe by the tail rotor. “Border patrol,” I said.

Dave raised his arms. I grabbed at his elbow, pulled them down.

“Wait,” I said.

As if on
cue, gunfire erupted from the cockpit. In the darkness, the bullets were like Roman Candles spraying all over Ridge Road.

Someone let out a
Hell Yeah
. Might have been me. May have been all of us.

“We need to flag them down,” Allison shouted.

I shook my head. “Not a good idea. From up there, we probably don’t look much different than the zombies. We should find cover.”

No one moved, though.

It was awe-inspiring. The helicopter hovered just above the expressway ramp. Bullets rained down in glorious sprays that penetrated and obliterated the walking dead.

When the gunfire stopped, we
whooped
and
hollered
. There was a chance we’d beat this. Not just the four of us, but humanity. All was not lost. I swore I saw a rainbow arc over Ridge Road. Okay, it may have been imagined, but if one had appeared, it would have been as appropriate as hell.

The celebration was cut short.

The helicopter pivoted. The tail was degrees higher than the cockpit. It looked menacing when it faced us. It became threatening when it came at us.

Dave grabbed my hand. Tore Sues’ blouse sleeve from my grasp.

“Run,” I said, turning.

Dave jumped up and down. He waved the white sleeve over his head like a surrendering flag. He had the right idea.

We all jumped up and down again, flagging the air with waves of our arms. The piece of shirt made the difference. It was an intelligent sign. Zombies appeared dumb as fuck. Hungry, but brainless.

The helicopter stayed over the back lot of the restaurant. Suddenly, I thought running might have been the better plan.

Allison took my hand. Another sign we weren’t mindless creatures.

Sues took a stance like she was ready to sprint at the helicopter. I took her hand. Looked at her. I had to yell to be heard over the spinning rotors. “No sudden moves. They’ll shoot us all.”

A speaker crackled. “Stay where you are! A Humvee will be by in an hour to pick you up. Wave your flag if you copy.”

Dave waved the sleeve.

The front of the helicopter tipped forward, then lifted and spun around and flew away. We stood statue, still watching it fly north. I felt deflated. Help was coming. The chopper was leaving.

I still didn’t have my kids.

“I want you guys to stay here. Wait for the military to pick you up,” I said. “I
will
be back in an hour.”

It was a lie. Mostly. If my kids were not at my place, I wasn’t coming back. I wouldn’t give up on them just because the Border Patrol was sending out a rescue team.

Allison still held my hand. She squeezed it. “Dave, you watch Sues, here. Make sure she’s okay. Chase and I will be right back.”

I wasn’t arguing with her. I wanted her with me. Might be selfish, but I don’t think I could handle being separated from her any better than I could
, not having my kids.

“We’re a team, guys. I’m going too,” Dave said.

“I seriously need you to stay. Sues is in no condition to run with us. That’s what we’re going to be doing. Running. You need to stay with her. Watch over her. She needs protection right now. An hour is a long time. The noise that chopper made, it might have attracted more zombies than it wiped out, and you know what I mean?” I said. “I promised your brother I’d take care of you. Man, that sounds wrong. You are more than capable of . . . I promised him we’d be friends. As your friend, Dave, you waiting for the Border Patrol is the best bet. For all of us. We’re going to do everything we can to be back in time.”

Dave had a freaking tear. “Stop, man,” I said. I pulled him into a hug. “We’re going to be right back. Okay.”

“What if you’re not?”

“You got your radio?” He patted it, where it was clipped to his hip. “You tell me where the base is. And we’ll come find you guys. Okay? Please, Dave. Do this for me.”

“Take care of her,” Dave thumbed a finger over his shoulder.

I nodded.

“Go then. Run. Hurry,” Dave said. “Go!”