Chapter 32: One if by Land

“Place ain’t got nothin’ but energy drinks and protein bars! Think we’ll be good for a while now,” laughed the dumb hillbilly prick.

Angie slipped on a corner, and they heard her fall.

“What’s this?” the hillbilly pulled her out from the aisle and showed her off to his boys. They howled and cackled like jackals. Harold jumped out from behind the cash register and knocked one of them unconscious with his shotgun before using it on the remaining two.

“We gotta go,” he grabbed Angie, “They will come after the gunshots.”

Harold led his wife by the hand, and they picked up with their small group at the rendezvous point after retrieving the protein bars for food. Harold walked over to Malcolm and Saul standing by the military Humvee.

“This is a jackpot, Harold”

“Are they back yet?”

“No. No sign of them.”

Harold walked by Malcolm and Saul, both holding assault rifles with make-shift suppressors on them. The two were ex-military and led the convoy with their Humvee. Harold got back to his SUV where his children were waiting. Missy handed baby Ollie over to Angie.

“Took you guys long enough,” they’re twenty-something year old daughter rolled her eyes as she walked away from them. Missy snuck back to the pick-up truck where she knew Morris had a pack of cigarettes. Everyone was on high alert. The group was low on gas and resources. “We need to find a place to hold up for the night.”

“Hey, Jake. You don’t look so good.”

“That’s what Morris keeps tellin’ me.” Jake wiped his head and coughed into a rag, “Didn’t think it would sound the same coming from a face like yours.” He was delirious. “Must be the fever.”

“Fever?”

“Fever!” Missy ran back to where her father was standing with the baby not realizing the cigarette still lingered between her fingers screaming, “JAKE’S GOT IT!” JAKE’S GOT THE FEVER!”

Harold handed Ollie back to Angie and ran over to Jake before Malcolm and Saul did anything rash. Morris was now standing outside of his pickup looking at Jake. He coughed into his rag with his other hand held out, as if to keep them away.

Malcolm walked over and poked Jake with the barrel of his rifle. “Let’s see it, boy. Show us the bite.”

Jake looked around at them. He knew he had to. He lifted up his shirt to reveal.

Nothing. Jake elbowed Malcolm and he dropped his rifle. Jake swooped it up and shot Saul at the other end of the convoy. Poor unsuspecting Saul, still keeping watch, caught a bullet in the back of the head.

Jake limped away. It was clear now that the bite was on his leg, right across his left thigh. It had been there since their last skirmish with the undead. He made sure they did not follow him and kept his gun pointed at Malcolm. Jake got to Harold’s SUV with Angie still in the car with the baby and opened the door.

“HEY!” Harold yelled once he realized what Jake was doing.

“Not so fast, family man. You take one more step and I’ll blow both their heads off.”

“Jake, what are you doing?” Morris cried out, “This isn’t you!”

“Desperate times, brother.”

Jake continued, as he tried not to pass out from the fever, “Now I’m gonna take this car, and let them out when I think the coast is clear. If I think any of you are following me!? I’m gonna keep Angie and Ollie long enough that they-”

AAAAAGH!

The window on the driver-side door of the SUV was smashed in by a zombie going after Jake. There was more than one. Angie and Ollie were trapped in the car while a wave of the horde came crashing down on them. Another one bit down on Jake’s arm, forcing him to squeeze the assault rifle trigger. The bullets flickered past the rest of the group. Once the bodies finished dropping only Harold and Malcolm were left standing.

Harold pulled Morris’ dead body off of Missy. She was shot in the chest, dead in an instant. Harold got back up and ran straight at the zombies surrounding the convoy. Malcolm held him back as they watched his wife and baby boy get swallowed up by the horde. Malcolm dragged Harold down the alleyway and across the street. Once they got out in the open the stagnant undead started rousing to their feet.

“We need to keep moving,” Malcolm told Harold as he let him go.

Harold teared pieces of his short black curly hair out of his head. He had just watched his entire family die and couldn’t do anything about it. The horde came spilling out of the alleyway as they flanked them from both ends of the street simultaneously. They were surrounded.

“Climb,” Malcolm thought out loud. “If we find a fire escape we can climb up it!”

‘This is hopeless,” Harold cried out.

“I’m not just gonna lie down and die!” Malcolm pleaded with Harold. “And neither are you!”

A van bursted through the wall of zombies, as the sidedoor slid open.

“GET IN!” yelled a girl with long dark hair and thick brimmed eyeglasses. Malcolm grabbed Harold and threw him towards the van, climbing in after. The door slid closed with them safely inside and the van took off before the zombies could get around them.

“Thank God! You saved our lives! I’m Malcolm, and this is Harold.”

“Are there any more of you?”

“You’re about five minutes late,” Harold mumbled, soaked in contempt.

“Who are they?” yelled the man driving the van.

“Quinn, who are they?” echoed his son in all the chaotic chatter.

“Where did you come from?” Quinn asked.

Malcolm assessed the small rag-tag group for what it was and trusted it, he gave them the truth, not the military anti-interrogation tactics, “We were at one point a group of over fifty friends and family from Clanchester Heights, me and my friend Saul just got back from another term overseas when the infection hit us. My pa led the group of fifty from the gym a couple of weeks after the nukes went off to try and find relief. The two of us are all that’s left.”

The man with the glasses driving the van turned back, “Where did you start from?”

“Clanchester, Vermont.”

Everyone in the car besides Harold and Malcolm glanced at each other in astonishment.

“What, what is it?”

“We’re on the border of South Carolina and Georgia” a fair skinned British girl said softly.

Malcolm looked around, all of a sudden a bit light-headed from the realization. The horribly clear fact which he can now see, written on all their faces.

There was no relief.

No help’s coming. The government was no more. It was truly the end of days, a road warrior wasteland left for the survivors to weather the odds.

“Are you people,” Malcolm stuttered, “Where are you headed?”

“We’re part of a group from New York,” Quinn began to explain.

“I guess that’s what the world is made up of now, just isolated pockets of survivor groups,” Warren commented to his father up front.

“We got split up back in North Carolina with the rest of our group.”

“I know I have no right to ask, being from Vermont myself, but what do New Yorkers need in the south?”

“One of our group has a brother trapped in a prison in Florida,” Samuel spoke up, his eye contact reflecting off of the rearview mirror. “From what we have seen so far, a prison might be the safest place to outlast this epidemic.”

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Harold and Malcolm checked with each other only through looks and subtle gestures. Samuel’s words had brought Harold back from the brink of insanity after losing his family. The prison mission would give them hope, a quest to Florida would keep them fighting and give them something to wake up for in the morning.

Malcolm spoke for Harold when he said to Samuel, “If you have room for two more, we will do whatever it takes to pull our weight.”

“I’m Doctor Samuel Gordon Chase, this is my son Warren, the girls that saved you are Quinn and Annie. We will take you as far as the seaport, but after that the rest of our group will have a say in what we do with you.”

“Where are they?”

“On a boat off the coast.”

“Do you really think you will ever see them again?” Harold scoffed.

“We’re meeting in Savannah.”

“If they’re not dead, or the walking dead…”

“They’ll be there,” Samuel reassured everyone contrary to Harold’s pessimistic attitude.

They will be there.

They drove past an untouched sign. Welcome to Georgia! Samuel considered this a good sign. On the final leg of the interstate abandoned cars began to clog the lanes. Right before an exit to Capri, four wrecked cars blocked any way further south. Samuel stopped the car.

“What are you doing?” Harold pushed, “The exit lane is open.”

But Samuel stayed still. Malcolm looked around at the wall of demolition. He sensed something was wrong too.

“It’s a trap,” Warren vocalized his father’s intentions.

“He’s right, they want us to go down there,” Malcolm included his two cents.

“But Samuel,” Quinn pointed out, ever the feminine voice, “There’s no other way around.”

“What are we going to do?” Annie worried.

Everyone began to panic. This was one of the first times Samuel felt a hole in his leadership capabilities, a perfect example of a military decision he needed Atticus for. He tried to weigh out the options in his head, but it was too late.

“Something’s coming up the exit ramp!” Quinn yelled.

Annie opened her car door to run away as a fortified and armed truck was barreling towards them. The militia loaded their assault rifles, and the turret above locked its sights on Annie.

From across the highway lanes, between the abandoned cars sprung out Marcus with a rocket launcher. He flicked the red switch and pulled the trigger. A long beep and emission of ignition, the missile sailed directly into the broadside of the militia truck, obliterating it.

The explosion nearly rocked the van off its wheels. Upon seeing Marcus’ face, Annie continued getting out of the car mid-explosion. Marcus kept running towards them and when he got to her grabbed Annie yelling, “Get back in the car! GET BACK IN THE VAN!”

“What’s going on!?” Samuel demanded to know as soon as Marcus got in the back seat behind Annie. “How are you here?”

“One day doc, I’ll explain everything, and you still won’t believe me, but for now we have to get down and drive!”

“But you blew up the truck! How did you find a rocket-”

Hard shell bullets hit the van’s exterior from what sounded like all sides.

“SNIPERS!” Marcus leaned forward and with the blunt side of a screwdriver pushed Samuel’s foot on the gas down. The van sped down the exit ramp. “Do you guys have any guns?” Marcus looked around, still frantic, like he was on a mission.

“Here!” Samuel threw him his revolver. The only gun he still had since New York. Marcus checked its ammunition. “Two rounds? You’ve been running on two rounds?”

Marcus gave the gun back to Samuel and pulled two pistols from his belt. He gave them to Annie and Quinn and then looked at Harold and Malcolm in the back seat; two strange faces.

“What about you two cowboys, you got yours?”

Malcolm showed them his assault rifle. “Sure do, but I’m low on ammo.”

“This is uncanny,” Marcus exclaimed to himself, before he pulled out the exact assault rifle clips needed for Malcolm’s modified rifle.

“How are you doing all of this?” Samuel could not let it go.

“It’s not me doc, trust me I wish it was, because I’m running out of orders.”

“Who’s orders!?”

“Just make a right up here at the light, don’t worry, we’re on the right path.”

There it was. Marcus was following someone else’s words. It had to be Atticus, but how could he know? Plus, it didn’t sound like Atticus… on the right path? Those aren’t Atticus’ words. ‘They sound more like, well it sounded like me…’

“DOCTOR!” Marcus grabbed his attention back, “We need to ditch this car! Pull over into that strip mall!”

Samuel parked the van and Harold helped Marcus pull a tarp over it. “Quickly, this way!” Everyone followed Marcus in a straight line, one by one. Another truck could be heard turning down the street they were just on. Marcus got everyone in the bushes behind the parking lot when the militia truck drove by. They were not seen, and the van was not found.

“If they don’t know we’re here, we can go back for our supplies,” Quinn implied.

“We don’t know that” Warren voiced his opinion.

“We’re doing it right, we can’t go back.” Marcus spoke clearly, but everyone else began to take as madness. “This is our path right now.”

Marcus shook his head in frustration, “This way, c’mon.”

Everyone followed Marcus except for Quinn, who made a run back for the van.

Annie turned around to check on her, usually they held hands while running but with Marcus here she was distracted. “She’s gone! Quinn went back!”

Samuel looked back for her with Warren while Marcus freaked out. Samuel ran back over to Marcus, Harold, Malcolm, and Annie, “If she’s seen by them we’re all dead.”

“Someone has to go back for her.”

“No one can go back because she’s not supposed to go back.”

“Not supposed to? That sounds dangerously close to predestination. It doesn’t matter anymore!” Samuel yelled at Marcus, he had enough of his soothsaying jargon, “The future or whatever you come from is gone. Quinn going back is our reality now.”

“She’s as good as dead.” Marcus gave his last prediction.

Samuel looked down at his revolver, with only two rounds. If he could get to the van he could retrieve his pack and his hatchet. Were two bullets enough to make it to the car? He took a deep breath a once again Doctor Samuel Gordon Chase leapt at the chance to defy the odds. He ran back into the woods for the parking lot. Warren looked over at Marcus and Annie, unsure of what to do. Go after his father, wait here, or keep going?

Warren looked over at Malcolm, “Hey, um, guy with the assault rifle, come with me.”

The forest broke and Samuel got back to the parking lot. Quinn was over by the van, door wide open, still covered by the tarp, rifling through their supplies. Not a couple cars over were three zombies rolling towards her. Samuel knew the gunshots were not enough and would bring more down upon them, possibly even alerting the local militia. He ran as fast as he could across the pavement with the tarnished white painted lines. “QUINN!” he hollered once close enough. She turned around just in time to confront her undead attackers. Quinn stifled a scream and crawled into the van, they grasped at her feet.

Samuel ran over to the van, before he could help her he noticed a truck heading towards them. Samuel took a deep breath, grabbed the zombies, and jumped in the van with Quinn, letting the tarp cover them.

Quinn couldn’t help but scream now, it was terrifying, they were clawing at her and there was nowhere to run. Samuel wrestled up from the back seat with his hatchet. He beheaded two while the last gnawed on Quinn’s wrist. He pulled it back and the hatchet blade slipped through his jaw, cleaving his brain in half.

Samuel wrapped her wound and reassured her, “It’s okay, we won’t tell anyone, and when you start to fever I’ll take care of it.”

Quinn cried.

The coast was clear. Samuel led Quinn out with the hatch and most of their stuff. They made another run for the woods. A swarm of zombies blocked their path. Quinn was already making a run for it while Samuel tried to catch up behind her. She was infected, and now taking insane chances. She practically ran right towards them, crying and clutching her wrist. Samuel caught up to her just in time and started slicing off head-tops with his hatchet as they got too close. He was over-extended and no soldier. Why was he doing this? He knew she was already lost. Could he really handle losing another one of the New York survivors?

Quinn tried to wrestle free, but she was weaponless and tired. Preoccupied with keeping them at bay, Samuel had to watch them pick at Quinn. One bit into her thigh bringing her down, another stood above her and chewed on her already bitten hand. Finally, one bit into her face, breaking her thick rimmed glasses between the eyes as her nose was torn off. She screamed one final scream and they all fell on top of her muffling her cries to gurgles.

“NO!” Samuel yelled.

They stopped eating Quinn and moved toward Samuel. With the wrath that comes with helplessly losing another member of the group, Samuel cut down those guilty of her demise with extreme prejudice.

From the treeline, Malcolm screwed on his suppressor and covered Warren’s sprint for his father. This was the first time Malcolm let loose in a while. He capped off almost every zombie in the parking lot with one clip. That’s what happens when you flick the switch to single fire. He had more than enough ammo to spare one clip. One single gunshot was heard. When Warren got to his dad he had his revolver out and held up against his own head.

It was clear to Warren what had happened. The single un-silenced gunshot was Samuel putting Quinn out of her misery, the last bullet in the chamber was for himself. That was before he saw Warren and Malcolm. Malcolm reloaded and covered Warren escorting his father back to the treeline. Together they ran back through the woods and caught up with Marcus, Annie, and Harold.

Annie desperately wanted to know. “Where’s Quinn?” She repeatedly asked, “Where is she?” But Annie knew what happened by the look on Samuel, Warren, and Malcolm‘s faces.

“I have one final thing to tell you,” Marcus cut the silence. “Atticus will meet us at Savannah. No matter who gets there first, the other group will wait for them. That’s it, that’s all I know. Now I’m stuck in the same boat as the rest of you, and trust me, be glad you’re not actually in a boat.”

“Marcus, what the hell happened to you?”