We all got out, needing to stretch and needing to de-stress from our close-call this morning. All of us stayed behind the trucks best as we could. Frank, however, boldly went to the back of his truck and opened the door to the bed-cover and crawled inside for a moment. When he came back out he held on to a large back-pack thing that looked heavy. He set this down on the ground at my feet and without a word went back to his truck to the rear-cab portion. I started to kneel down to look at the pack when Maggie's hand rested on my shoulder and gently pulled me back up. I looked at her and she quietly shook her head that said it wouldn't be a good idea to mess with it. I glanced over at Frank who was walking back to us and his expression wasn't happy.
“Dad,” Maggie began hesitantly.
He scowled a bit, “Let me guess, another note?”
I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. He unfolded it and read aloud:
“Well you've done it again and gotten away and you've had help. Too bad about them, they'll just have to go. You should be more discreet on the radio. I've an idea where you're headed, maybe meet you there, face to face. We'll see.
Frank, handed the note back to me and was quiet for a long count. “Alright dammit, since we can't use the civilian radios anymore we'll have to make do with the military one.” Frank toed the pack on the ground. “Trouble is that it has a 3 mile range, so we'll have to stay close the rest of the way.” My eyebrows went up, “Uh, sir,” I started as Frank began opening a folded map he got out of his truck, “the rest of the way to where?” Frank laid out the map on the tarp of our truck and studied it for a moment, then pointed to a spot on the laminated paper. “Here,” he said finally, “Wildfire two.” Both Maggie and I crowded together to look at the spot on the map. I didn't find it hard to read since it was a U.S.G.S. topo map that I was used to seeing, thanks to my hiking days before all of this happened. Maggie and James of course were able to read it effortlessly.
“Dad,” she began without taking her eyes off the map, “unless I'm mistaken there's no road going to Wildfire.” This time Frank grinned. “Right you are, and there's not supposed to be any roads, trails or anything leading to it, not on any map. You wouldn't even have found it on Google Earth because the image has been altered to look like the rest of the area, sans quarry. So far nobody has ever called us on it. But trust me, it's there, I helped oversee the construction of it.” there was a hint of pride in his voice. I studied the map a little more where Frank had pointed. “What is this clearing in the woods? That's Wildfire? How are they able to hide it from the air? Or satellites for that matter? Uh, enemy satellites I mean of course.”
“It's an old abandoned rock quarry that was used to build this area's interstate. All the limestone used in the cement mixture for the roads we've been driving on came from that quarry in the '50's” he explained. “Afterwards, it was decided that it would be a good spot for a shelter of Wildfire's design.”
I thought of something else. “You said this field radio” nodding down to the pack on the pavement at our feet, “has only a 3 mile range,” I began. Frank nodded affirmative. “We'd have to get within 3 miles of the place to be heard?”
Frank shook his head. “No. The outer defense perimeter is 5 miles in diameter from the center of the quarry. It's all fenced in and turned into some nature preserve under study by the National Park Service. Which is basically a front for a military reservation,” he explained patiently. “Two mile radius beyond that and we set off the intrusion alarms from within the base. Surveillance cameras will turn on automatically and the soldiers monitoring those cameras will alert base command and appropriate action will be taken. Usually they have a couple of bogus National Park Service trucks that'll drive out to meet the, uh, trespassers and chase 'em off.
“If the ... trespassers are stubborn then Humvees are used and the folks are detained and questioned and then,” his grin faltered a bit and he scratched the back of his neck as if suddenly uncomfortable, “threatened with arrest and told to keep quiet about the military presence.” I didn't like the word “threatened” but kept my mouth shut on it. I was slowly getting the picture as to just how top-secret this facility was. “I'm guessing that you have the appropriate code or passwords to gain entry?” Frank's face was serious. “Unless they changed it in the last year or so, I do.” I hated to be the wet blanket but had to ask. “And if they changed it in light of all,” spreading my hands around in a small circle “this?” Frank put his hand on my shoulder and gripped it firmly, I suppose to reassure me, “That's why Maggie and I brought our uniforms and ranks with us. Besides, remember what I told you before? It's more of a who you know. The base commander and I are old friends and he owes me one.”
He looked at the map again, tracing a route with his finger then sighed. “There is one other little thing we'll have to worry about before getting there.” I reached into my shirt pocket and gotten a cigarette, somehow I felt that I would need it. Frank continued studying the map and when he hadn't gotten a reply from any of us he looked up at us and gave a grin. “Crossing the river” he said simply.
As I lit my cigarette, wondering what he meant, it hit me just then how right he was. As busy as the mighty Mississippi River was it would mean that any bridge crossing would be highly dangerous and I imagined thanks to traffic, a lot of them would more-n-likely be impassible. “A lot of those bridges will have traffic jams from hell on them and I would imagine quite a few are purposefully blocked or destroyed by the military in an effort to contain the dead.” Frank shook his head and continued studying the map. “The Mississippi river isn't known for having a lot of crossings. All the past flooding and destruction they caused, city and state engineers kept bridges down to a minimum.”
As I thought it over, a distant memory was rising up in my mind, the name of a friend I known a long time ago. We used to work together for a short time, but my feelings about him were strong enough to tell me that we became close friends. His name was eluding me for the moment. I ignored it for the time being, searching for other details about him that I could remember. He was older than me and a former Marine that served in combat in Vietnam. He had a specific job back then. I ignored the others around me for the moment, even going as far as to raise a finger to Maggie as she tapped my shoulder, calling my name. Wait a minute my finger said. She backed off and waited.
My friend, Carl? No it was Curt... no but it began with a C. His job in 'Nam was... I looked at the map again, seeing the blue line of the river... right, he was a river patrol boat pilot in 'Nam. Last I talked to him he mentioned going to Memphis to find a job as a barge driver. He felt comfortable that he would get the job based on his experience when he did patrols up and down the Mekong river looking for, “Charlie” I blurted out loud.
Frank and Maggie looked at me and I noticed they were waiting. “Charlie Jacobs, he's a friend of mine. He might be still alive because he was a combat veteran of 'Nam. He drove those patrol boats up and down the river there.” I was speaking quickly and more to myself as my memory cleared up and the details were falling into place. “Last time I saw him he was headed to Memphis to get a job as a barge driver. I gotten a post-card from him a year ago. He couldn't get a barge job but he did find work as a ferry driver. It was very close to St. Louis.” I turned away and focused on the map again, tracing my finger down from St. Louis to the small dots on the map that showed town names along the river. “There!” my finger stabbed at a spot on the map. The two crowded close to see the name. “Ste. Genevieve.” Maggie muttered aloud. “I don't see a bridge” she began, I interrupted “there's not, but like I said, there is a ferry that goes across. The post card he sent me showed a picture of it. It was big enough to transport a fully loaded Semi-trailer across the river.”
Frank's voice cut through my thoughts, “John, you said that it's been a while since you heard from him?” I nodded. “So the odds are that he's still there, much less still alive...” I cut him off as politely as I could, I could feel my heart beating faster, I was getting excited about this. With a ferry we could travel down the river until we found a safe spot to off load the trucks. “Frank, my buddy Charlie was a pretty stable guy, not to mention a helluva fighter. I'm guessing that he's still alive because he could've just stayed on the water where the zombies couldn't get to him. He's combat trained and experienced so I think the odds are in our favor that he's still alive.”
Frank nodded agreeably enough, “Yes, that's true. But the odds of him being in the same place and not anywhere else along the 2500 miles that make up the longest river in the country, that's pretty slim in my opinion.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to pause and more importantly to calm down and slow my train of thoughts. “Yes, you are right about that. But I think it's our best option. Even if he isn't there we might find a way across. We're going to have to anyway. I think this would be our best bet, if not then we can figure out something else.”
Frank stared hard at me then grinned. “Sounds good.” He turned to say something to Maggie but found she wasn't there. We looked around and saw she was walking towards the overpass. Frank scooped up a small pair of binoculars out of his thigh pocket and put it to his eyes. I shielded my eyes with my hand and watched Maggie. “James is on the bridge, he sees something. I think we might need to move on in a hurry.” Frank's voice was tense with alertness. Suddenly all business again. He lowered the glasses and put them back in his pocket.
I watched Maggie as she continued walking, an automatic rifle in her hands. She stopped and crouched down. A second later I could make out James in a low crouching run towards his mother, his own rifle slung over his back. He caught up to her and while I couldn't see too much except Maggie's back, in a moment both were moving quickly towards us. Already Frank was rolling up the map and getting the field radio and moving towards the back of his truck. When the two reached the trucks, Maggie was visibly agitated. “James says there's a small group of zombies headed our way. We need to get moving.”
Ten minutes later after checking everything for leaks via bullet holes and any other problems, one of our Jerry cans got shot through, but we were lucky that it was one of the empty ones. I took it and chucked it hard into the woods by the on ramp. No sense in leaving a visible trail for our friend. A friend all of us would be glad to kill. Since we felt confident that we weren't being followed we drove more carefully and slower. Frank gave Maggie a hand-held portable and made sure the frequencies matched before we got back on the road. As we pulled away the first of the zombies made it past the bridge. Soon they were out of sight and eventually out of mind.
We made a plan to stop at the next town and search for vehicles to siphon gas from and top off our fuel tanks and spares. According to Frank we still had a good four or five hour drive to our exit and then another hour's drive to the outer defensive perimeter of the quarry site. At least we would be able to communicate without being heard.
I felt like we could relax but somehow just couldn't. I kept checking the rear-view mirrors and was feeling like I was being overly paranoid. Somehow, that bastard sniper found us and I feared that he may try again before we reached our destination. Maggie doubted that the sniper even knew about Wildfire since it was one of those classified installation that was a need to know basis. She said she knew about it but had to pretend to NOT know about it or else she and her father would've ended up behind bars.
As we drove on, we spotted very few zombies which I suppose was a good thing. It would appear that they haven't all expanded out of the cities just yet. It turned my stomach a little to think that the reason was because they haven't run out of food yet. It also meant that the population of walkers would grow over the next few weeks. I had a lot of questions about them, but no answers.
I had a small hope that maybe at Wildfire 2, they would have a few scientists or doctors that were studying the virus or whatever it was, and may have some insight upon it. There were still so many unanswered questions.
At the next town we stopped and looked around while still in the vehicles, driving slowly here and there along the main streets searching for where we could find the most gas without having to stop at every other car to check it's fuel level. James suggested a church building, which was not a bad idea since probably a lot of people went there to pray and die. The trouble was, how many of the dead were zombies? We'd have to be careful. As luck would have it we did find an old Baptist church on the far end of town from the freeway exit. As James predicted the parking lot was nearly full of cars.
As I hoped there were no zombies milling about outside. I guessed that they were more-n-likely inside the church and haven't found a way out. Good, they can stay in there and rot for all I cared. They weren't parishioners anymore, all their souls went to be with Jesus, or wherever the hell souls went. The bodies those souls left behind however; were still dangerous.
We managed to top off the trucks, all the remaining gas cans in short order, and without incident. Also as luck would have it the church was on the corner of an intersection that crossed a feeder road that would take us back to the interstate highway without having to go back through town again. It would also hopefully throw off our trail, thwarting the efforts of the sniper that was undoubtedly still following us. We talked very sparingly on the radio, just enough to let each other know if one of us needed to pull-over once in a while. A good thing about being out and away from any major cities was the minimal chance of running into the occasional herds. What was disconcerting was the lack of live people. Several times during my travels to this point I've either encountered or seen groups of people moving from one place to another.
I guessed that smaller groups and individuals hid themselves away as we drove past. Likely for the same reasons I did when walking along the roads. Smaller packs of hunters or unscrupulous scavengers. You just had to be careful out here in this brave, new, messed up, dead world of ours. Besides, considering our cargo, we wouldn't have stopped for anyone anyway. Food we had aplenty, along with ammunition and enough ordinance to put a sizable hole in the ground should it all go off at once.
Maggie told me that Frank's truck was rigged with a switch, that when flipped on in the cab would arm a booby trap which would ignite the C-4 that was in the back of the truck. There was enough in that bed to level half a city block. Thankfully it was set up where a stray bullet wouldn't cause it to go off.
A few hours later Frank's voice came on the radio, saying that we were approaching our exit.
Now all we had to do was to find the ferry and avoid any run-ins with zombies or anyone else for that matter. There were a few side roads that looked like they went down to the river bank but a lot of them were either dead-ends or they curved away and paralleled the water's edge alongside a levee. I was about to give up when Maggie touched my arm and pointed at something along the water's edge. A small, white, tower looking structure that was mostly obscured by trees. I shrugged and headed on over that way.
Sure enough a small one lane paved track, with pot-holes and gaping cracks lead to a boat ramp. The structure that caught Maggie's attention was indeed a wheel house to the ferry that (hopefully) was what we were looking for. Almost immediately we could see that it was anchored off shore by about thirty yards. We drove slowly to the top of the ramp. Frank, again keeping his distance so to allow me room to back up in case we needed to get out of there in a hurry. There was only one way in or out.
I put the truck in park and just sat there with the engine idling, watching the ferry for any signs of movement. Nothing happened for long minutes and nobody said anything. Out of the corner of my eye Maggie was keeping an eye on the rear-view mirror and glancing over her shoulder now and again. Her pistol in hand ready to go at a moment's notice. With a sigh I opened the door and slowly got out. “Be careful” was all that Maggie said. I simply nodded and kept my eyes on the wheel house, staying behind the door until my patience began to wear thin. All of the sudden I wasn't sure if my friend Charlie would recognize me or start shooting.
He was there alright, the ferry was anchored and the deck clean of any debris or even stains. Someone was taking care of it. It had to be him, because any other survivors wouldn't care too much about appearances. I slowly stepped out from behind the door, keeping my hands clear of my side arm but comforted in the fact that I didn't have the safety strap on it. If need be I could and would be able to draw quickly. I took a few steps out into the open and stood midway down the concrete ramp. All I could do was wait it out.
Nothing. The tension was building or maybe it was just me. I tried to stay cool and calm letting Charlie take a good look at me. Hoping he was using binoculars and was making out whatever was familiar to him on my facial features. I had to do something to provoke a response. Hopefully what I decided to do was going to be the right thing. I took a step backwards.
The response was immediate. I froze as the whine of the bullet that struck the concrete at my feet faded with the report of the rifle it was fired from. I held my ground. Then a voice called out from the water. “You got 3 seconds to identify yourself or the next shot goes a lot higher!” The voice was comfortingly familiar. Charlie had a one of a kind voice that was easily identifiable. “Hey! Charlie! It's me, John. John Handle from Tennessee.”
“I knew a John Handle once, you tell me where I know him from.” he challenged back.
“We worked together at Mystery Well Cave. You were part of the ground crew and I was a tour guide, our boss was an asshole named Brighton. We always hated that son-of-a-bitch! Especially after he fired you.” All of that was true of course, I didn't dare lie. I gone out target shooting with Charlie a few times. I knew exactly how good he was with his rifle. The air was quiet but I was nervous. Gunshots are becoming like ringing a dinner bell these days. Though we didn't see any zombies it didn't mean there weren't any near enough to hear the shot.
The door to the wheel house opened but nothing came out. Charlie's booming voice called out. If you got anyone pointing cross-hairs at me, they'd best put them away or I'll put you down.” I suddenly realized that Charlie probably scanned both trucks and saw either Frank or James aiming their weapon at the wheel house. Slowly I turned around and made a downward motion with my hand and hope that either of them got the message. I could see that it was James who was covering me. The barrel of his rifle went up and I turned around. When I did I could see Charlie standing by the door of the wheel house.
He was shirtless and his dark skin glistened with sweat in the sunlight. In his hands was a high-powered rifle and a good sized scope mounted on it. The rifle rested easy in his hands, barrel pointed at the deck, the stock above his shoulder. I had no doubt that any funny moves would cause the barrel to come up and point straight at my head. I took a slow step forward. “Hey Charlie. How ya been? Glad to see you made it through all this crap.”
“Good to see you John. What are you doing around here?”
“Headed west. Trying to find a good place to cross the river. Most of the bridges are ... well, they're pretty messed up.”
He nodded but still didn't change his stance. I took another step ahead. “I got your post card, that's how I knew to look for you around here.” I swallowed and the dryness in my throat made an audible click that I hoped only I heard. “You did say come and see you if I was ever in the neighborhood. I'm sorry if my timing sucks man.”
Charlie lowered his weapon further and looked up at the sky and closed his eyes. “Yeah, the timing sucks for everybody.” He lowered his head and opened his eyes and looked at me. Even from that distance I could see he was glad to see me. “Who do you have with you?” I relaxed.
“Just four of us,” turning my head to my companions, “my, woman, her father and her son.” Charlie's laughter brought my attention back to him. “Your woman huh? Now I'll be damned. I'd never thought you find the time to get caught up with one.” I gave Maggie a wave to come out, I gave her a smile that I hoped translated that she come out without any weapons in hand. Frank and James still stayed in their truck. Maggie's door opened and she got out and walked over to me. She took my hand when she reached my side. “This here is Maggie. Maggie, that there is Charlie. He's a good man, he's a good friend.” I gave her hand a squeeze and she squeezed back. She spoke loud enough for him to hear but was addressing me. “You didn't say that he was huge.” That was true enough. Charlie stood at a good six foot seven weighing in at 270 and not an ounce of fat on him. He would dwarf Maggie when they finally stood close to one another.
Charlie roared laughter, his head shaking. “That's what all the girls say when John introduces them to me.” He waved us on and turned to put his rifle against the wall. He stepped over to one corner of the ferry and knelt down, grabbing a rope that at first looked like it was dangling free in the water. When he pulled at it I could see that he had it tied to a stake hidden behind some bushes along the shore. As he pulled at the rope he was bringing the entire ferry closer to the ramp, on his strength alone.
Frank's truck horn sounded once, quick. Suddenly Maggie tensed but not because of anything Charlie was doing, but because of the sound behind us. I heard it too. She let go of my hand and walked quickly to the truck, signing to James and Frank as she went. I turned to Charlie.
“Charlie! We're going to have company!” I yelled as I turned to the truck to get in and drive it.
Amazingly Charlie laughed again, “yeah those bastards are always trying to crash a party aren't they?” He may have been jovial but he was working harder at the rope and I could see that he would be able to get the edge of the ferry to the ramp in a couple of minutes. If we had a couple of minutes. I hopped into the truck as soon as Maggie put the back of the seat down after retrieving the M-16 she kept there. She reached into a pouch that she grabbed with it and threw it over her shoulder, checking for magazines. “James and I will hold the zombies back long enough for you and Dad to get the trucks on the ferry. We'll be right on your ass.” Before she could take off, I called to her. “Maggie! Be careful!” She grinned and blew me a kiss and took off running.
I put the truck in gear and moved it down to the ramp and waited for Charlie to give me the go-ahead. In the rear view I could see Frank was now close on my tail. In the side mirror I could see Maggie had already joined up with James and giving him directions in signs. The boy didn't seem to be arguing this time around and disappeared from view.
Charlie had lowered the end of the ferry's ramp and it clanged loudly on the concrete, he stepped off to one side and waved me aboard. I gunned the engine and drove as carefully as I could on to the ferry deck and drove it as close to the far end as I dared. I threw the gear in park, killed the engine, opened the door and got out. As Frank pulled up behind me I could hear gun fire from both Maggie and James. Three round bursts from Maggie's M-16, punctuated by a single loud roar from James' hunting rifle. I had no doubts that they were putting their targets down without difficulty.
Frank put his truck into park and opened the door and leaned on the truck horn, calling Maggie back. I reached in the back of our truck and got my sword and quickly tucked the scabbard into my belt. I pulled my sidearm out of it's holster and got it cocked and ready to shoot by the time I passed Frank's rear bumper. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but the sudden roar of the ferry's engine and a belch of smoke from the side of the wheel house told me he was ready to take off as soon as everyone was aboard.
I looked ahead and up the ramp where Maggie and James were now running down towards us. Behind them were at least a half dozen zombies shambling quickly after them. Maggie had her rifle shouldered and was carrying her pistol. She stopped once to turn and fire twice, knocking down two that were uncomfortably close. James kept pace with his mother but hadn't shouldered his rifle. I could see that he wasn't wearing his own side-arm. He must've taken it off to sleep more comfortably in the truck while we drove down here.
In a moment Frank was beside me holding his .45 in both hands and muttering “c'mon, c'mon both of you hurry!” In a few steps Maggie and James would be on board and Charlie could gun the boat engine and we'd be clear. There was a zombie however too close to Maggie and I wanted to raise my pistol to shoot it but she suddenly was in the way. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Frank was raising his pistol but before he or I could do anything, James turned suddenly and holding the rifle out in front of him he intercepted the zombie and knocked it down, only he lost his balance and went down with it. Maggie leaped aboard the ferry and turned around. There was a brief grin of triumph until she saw her son on the ground on top of a zombie. “James!” she screamed.
Frank's gun went off but not to where James was, but a zombie that was approaching him on the right side of the ferry. Maggie was about to go help her son but another zombie was making his way too close to the ferry and she had to change directions and start shooting at it instead. I saw James and the zombie wrestling with each other and rolling away from the ferry and getting into the water's edge.
I dropped my pistol and pulled my sword free from it's scabbard and jumped over the side, finding myself calf deep in muddy water. Quickly I stepped over to where the two were fighting. The zombie had gotten on top of James and it's greater weight was pushing him down. James was fighting hard and hitting it in various places with such precision and strength, that if it were a live person, they'd been hurting badly. But this was a zombie, who would feel no pain from any amount of blows struck. Eventually James found his hands full trying to keep the hands of the zombie from reaching his throat.
I managed to get close enough and swung my blade hard, catching the thing along the back of the skull as I intended. The zombie jerked once and then froze. With a wretch I got my blade free and gave the body a kick which launched it off the boy. I looked down at him and he back up at me in wonder. I held my hand out and waited. He reached up and I gave him a hard yank to his feet and spun him around to push him towards the boat. Maggie and Frank's guns continued to bark as their bullets tore into the craniums of the few remaining zombies that were still approaching the ferry. Already the boat was starting to move. I waded close and climbed aboard after James got his feet under him and was crawling to the wheel house for a place to sit.
Maggie turned and dropped her weapon to the deck as she ran over to James. She fell to her knees and began examining the boy. I rolled over on to my back and looked up and saw that we had finally pulled far enough away from the shore that the only zombie left out of the initial group was standing waving it's arms, trying to reach us growling. A gunshot rang out and the upper portion of the remaining zombie's head disappeared. It's body stood for a moment before collapsing to it's knees and it fell forward, landing half in the water. I turned my head best as I could and saw Charlie standing there with his rifle to his shoulder. He looked down at me and grinned. “They're a lot more fun to shoot than the Cong I'm tellin ya.” I could only nod best as I could in my position and close my eyes. “Excitement, heh, adventure, heh, a Jedi craves not these things.” I thought to myself. Sheesh, amen to that.
No comments:
Post a Comment