Preservation - 03 Read online

  “Hate guys like you,” Allison said, and again gave a shot to my gut with her elbow. No way was I admitting those jabs hurt, so I just made a face and playfully pushed her back.

  Everyone seemed drawn into the rendition, waiting for Charlene to continue. I even found myself taken in by it, anxious to hear the rest.

  Charlene knew what she was doing too, what she was accomplishing. I saw it when we locked eyes for a brief moment. Yes, I knew the memory made her happy, but I also saw the intelligence behind her need to share. The storytelling was a distraction that wasn’t only helpful, it appeared necessary.

  “Dad gets buckled in, my mother next to him. She’s digging through the diaper bag for the baggie of Cheerios, teething rings and rattles. She hopes one of those things is going to quiet me down for the flight. Naturally, none of them do. Then the plane is on the tarmac, headed in line for our turn to take off, and before you know it, we start to pick up speed, shooting down the runway. As we lift off the ground, my head just gets lower and lower until it’s on my dad’s chest, like the force of take-off pushed me against him, and just like that,” she said, and snapped her fingers, “I’m asleep and stay asleep for the entire flight.”

  “No way,” Allison said.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “The whole flight, and I couldn’t move at all. I was afraid if I even tried to open the complimentary bag of peanuts--”

  “Found it!” Palmeri said. “Not much of an airport, but I see a helicopter parked next to a hangar.”

  I hated reality. It seriously knew how to hack the shit out of good times. I gave my daughter a wink. She winked back and lowered her head some, as if suddenly shy.

  “Are you licensed to fly a helicopter?” Sues said, pointing at the bird that sat on a pad.

  “Ah, no. I’m not.”

  We seemed to all sigh collectively. “Okay, so now what?” I said.

  “We should check the hangar. The size of that thing, fifty-fifty chance a plane is inside,” Palmeri said. “Can’t hurt to look, anyway.”

  “Also a fifty-fifty chance the hangar could be filled with mechanic, wrench wielding zombies, too,” Dave said. “And pilot zombies. And just, you know, a ton of freaking zombies!”

  He was right, of course. “You see any creatures anywhere?” I said.

  “No, none,” Erway said. “Looks pretty deserted.”

  “Hate that,” Allison said. “Maybe it’s just me, but deserted seems a hundred times scarier. At least if we see them, we can handle it. Take them out. But when there is nothing, none of them, I just get that searching the rooms-of-a-haunted-house feeling.”

  Sues kept nodding her head in agreement.

  “Nobody get out of the truck,” Erway said, which was a statement that did not need to have been made. “I’m going to check out the hangar. I agree with Allison, not a fan of the deserted. I’m thinking if there are zombies anywhere, they’re inside that hangar. So give me a few minutes to see what’s what inside.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Palmeri said, and unfastened her seatbelt.

  “I don’t think so,” Dave said. “You’re our pilot. Kind of a commodity right now. We need you. I’ll go with Erway. We’ll clear the hangar and signal when it’s safe.”

  I saw Sues’ grip tighten on Dave’s forearm. Nothing extreme, just her fingers squeezing a bit more than they had been.

  This was how it was now. To get from place to place, chances needed to be taken. They would always be dangerous. The unknown was that way. It was never going to seem fair, either. Couldn’t be the same people always volunteering. Everyone was going to need to take a chance, a turn. No one wanted to risk their life. I knew I didn’t. I knew I was tired. I knew I never wanted to die and leave Charlene all alone. I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than that, except her dying.

  “Erway is our medic,” I said. “She’s staying. I’ll go with Dave.”

  “You’re talking about me like I’m not here,” Erway said.

  “No,” I said. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m talking to everyone else. Making it clear.”

  “I can pull my own weight,” she said.

  “Didn’t imply you couldn’t. And soon enough, we’re going to have to put together a risk-taking rotation.” I smiled. “For now, let’s not do this. It’s not a pissing match. It’s like Dave said about Palmeri. A pilot, a medic. That’s pretty essential right now. I have a machete. A knife. I can be replaced.”

  “Stop, Chase,” Allison said.

  “You know what I mean.” I was between Allison and Charlene. I slid forward and knelt in the center of the Humvee. “It’s Dave and me. And like Erway said, no one else gets out of this vehicle. No one.”

  I was referring to my daughter. If anyone was going to risk getting out and coming to help, I envisioned her being the one doing it. I wanted to make sure Allison caught on, and kept Charlene from leaving. I hoped she picked up the meaning by the tone of my voice. I had no way of verifying whether or not she did without coming out and asking, so I decided to play it safer and simply asked, “Am I clear?”

  The five of them acknowledged.

  “Dave, ready?”

  “Ready, sir.” He sighed in a long, loud breath. I don’t think he meant to let that escape from his lungs in front of everyone. It just sounded like a depressing bag of deflating desperation and surrender.

  Chapter Two

  Palmeri drove the Humvee up onto the tarmac and stopped by the chopper pad. Dave and I climbed out and walked to the front of the vehicle. I stared at the helicopter. It resembled a prehistoric bird on furlough from a museum. The front of the thing had a face. The big windows looked like eyes, the propeller blades draped to either side like eyebrows. I don’t know, like I said, to me it looked like a face.

  “You okay?” Dave said.

  I wasn’t sure if I was. When I’d been a kid, we played ding-dong-ditch. One old woman had wind chimes on her front porch. The house was set back from the road. The idea wasn’t to ring her doorbell, but to swipe your arm across the chimes. The other kids on the street were older. They forced me to do it. I worked up the courage and made my way up her lawn, staying low, and moving quietly from tree to tree. I could hear the others laughing in the street. They were ready to run and hide as soon as I rang the chimes. When I got up onto the porch, about to run my arm across the wind chimes, a light switched on. That old woman sat in a chair on a corner of the porch waiting. I’d stood frozen, and when she got up to come at me, I found my legs and ran away, screaming at the top of my lungs. I felt that way now, but at least I wasn’t alone. “Let’s just check this place out.”

  The clouds were one solid sheet of gunmetal-grey that made up the entire sky for as far as the eye could see. The leafless trees stood like skeletons along most of the perimeter. The wind had picked up, brisk and bone-chilling. It smelled wet, as if rain or snow was in the inevitable future. The crisp air filled and stung my lungs. It was going to be a long, harsh winter for survivors in the north. Hibernating the next several months would prove challenging. I prayed they found shelter safe from zombies and full of supplies. None of that seemed likely, though.

  Before fleeing the burning cabin, most of us had escaped with weapons from the Terrigino stash. Stocking up on rifles and ammo, machetes, swords and knives, I wore a machete and sheath on my back and a long sword with a scabbard and nine-inch sawbuck-hunting knife on my hip, completely foregoing a rifle or sidearm. I learned the hard way how frightening it was to be surrounded by zombies and out of ammunition. My daughter dressed similarly. Dave had a rifle and a sidearm. Between the two of us, I figured that even if we ran into a flock of zombies, we’d be able to deliver some serious damage before being forced to retreat. I hoped, anyway, because in every instance, it seemed like retreat was inexorable.

  The Humvee’s engine let out a low and steady chugging sound; it was just a bit less than a grumble, and a tad more than a purr. Other than that, the only thing making noise was the wind. It sounded angry, if you wan
ted to personify it, and ran along the hangar rattling the loose aluminum walls, rocked the helicopter’s blades and caused me to shiver against its force. I wished the vest I wore was equipped with both sleeves and a collar, but then it wouldn’t be a vest. In truth, the shiver might only be partly caused by the frigid air.

  The hangar resembled a giant warehouse with a bowed roof, and appeared secured. The doors that let planes in and out were rolled closed. There was a normal door as well. I motioned to Dave with my head that we’d start that way. “Only real door I see,” I said. “Let’s check it out.”

  With a slight nod, Dave followed me.

  I held the machete by my side and gripped the handle, wishing I’d taken a pair of thin gloves from the Terrignos. Continued use of this thing was going to rub my palms raw. While the rubber might be better to hold than wood, sweat and blood would still make it slippery and difficult to hold, I’d bet.

  We reached the hangar, and stood on either side of the front entrance. I put a wrist to my chest, feeling my heartbeat through my clothing.

  “Could be a back door, too,” Dave said.

  “Probably is,” I said. “Should we do a walk-around?”

  Dave shook his head. “If there’s a door, there’s a door. If there isn’t…” He shrugged. His way of saying, Oh well, without saying it.

  “I’m good with that,” I said. I switched the machete to my other hand and tried the doorknob. Twisted it left and right. Barely moved. “Locked.”

  “Of course. We kick it in, or whatever. If there aren’t any zombies around, they’ll start this way. If there are zombies inside, it’ll be like ringing the doorbell,” Dave said. “I hate this shit.”

  “Hating it right along with you,” I said. Don’t know how many times I cursed at home about having to go into work. The idea of being tethered by a headset to a workstation for eight plus hours gave me stomach cramps. Then there was that, stomach cramps. You basically had to raise your hand and get permission from a supervisor to use the bathroom. Right now, though, with things the way they were, I’d take being treated like a fucking preschooler over this any day of the week. “You see any other option?”

  “We take that walk-around, see if there is another door, and check if that one is unlocked,” Dave said. “Unless you want to just kick this one in?”

  I looked back at the Humvee. It was parked maybe fifty yards away. Couldn’t see through the front windshield since the glass was heavily tinted. I knew everyone inside was staring directly at us. They were counting on us. “Let’s walk it. Make it quick. There has got to be an easy way inside.”

  We made our way along the west side of the hangar. I’ve never been in the jungle before, not the Serengeti, Congo, or the Amazon, and yet, I knew Dave and I were being followed. I couldn’t help feel like a gazelle. Out there was a lion, or a pack of lions. I knew it. I held up a fist.

  We stopped.

  “What?” Dave said, it was a whisper.

  “We’re being followed.”

  We both spun around.

  I laughed first, Dave a millisecond later. I’d been correct. We were being followed. A giant black Humvee had closed the sixty yard gap between us. It was ten yards away, and inching closer and closer. “Guess we’re all going for that walk around the hangar,” I said.

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Dave said. “Not a thing.”

  I agreed. While there was safety in numbers, having a vehicle filled with armed people on your side only helped. Didn’t hurt.

  Once at the corner of the building, I peeked around the side, quickly.

  “Well? Is it clear?” Dave said.

  I placed my back against the building. My cheeks felt numb. The temperature had to be dropping fast. My breath came out in plumes.

  I shook my head, and let out a little laugh. “I looked too fast. I didn’t see anything.”

  “You okay?” Dave said.

  I nodded. “Ah-yeah, peachy.”

  Dave stuck his head around the corner. “It’s clear.”

  “Awesome,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” he said.

  But there was something to be sorry for. I felt unraveled. The coming undone took place inside of me, in my head, and chest. Those parts of me seemed like fabric tearing away, being peeled back. I’d lost my son yesterday, and buried him this morning. There had been no time to stop, grieve, mourn, or to heal. None. Nothing.

  Dave knew what it felt like, what I was going through. He’d lost his brother only days before that.

  Over the last week, all of us had lost someone. Every one of us. I just needed a way to keep pushing on, moving forward, even though I didn’t want to. That was honest and raw. It was the way I felt. I didn’t want to try anymore. I wasn’t sure there was a point. Other than caring for Allison and Charlene, I was drained. They might be the only two reasons I didn’t just give up altogether. Just lay down my weapons, curl into a ball and just fall asleep forever.

  The plan to go to Mexico was flat and uninspired. I had everyone all rallied and excited about crossing the foreign border. The fucking zombies were everywhere. The disease would only continue to spread. Things would get worse before they ever got even slightly better. However, things getting any worse was nearly incomprehensible. If Mexico was in any better shape than New York, I’d be more than surprised, I’d be shocked. Fucking shocked.

  “Chase,” Dave said. His voice worked at pulling me out of my internal mental melee and back into our reality.

  “I’m ready. I’m good. I’ll go first,” I said.

  I didn’t need to go around that corner first, though. The Humvee pulled ahead. They must have realized we were looking for another way into the hangar, and were making sure the back of the building had clear access, should there be a second door.

  The Humvee stopped behind the building.

  Dave and I rounded the corner. “A door,” he said.

  “It better not be locked.” We stayed close to the building.

  “Smell that?” Dave said. He looked back over his shoulder toward the east. “Fire somewhere.”

  “I do. Guessing a lot of the country is burning right about now,” I said. “The dry leaves piled up everywhere --people in homes with no furnace starting small fires indoors to keep warm. There are going to be a lot of fires.” A lot of deaths. Smoke, and CO poisoning. We stood at the door. “You gonna try it?”

  Dave wrapped his hands on the knob and twisted. We both heard the soft release-click. Unlocked. He looked at me. I nodded, signaling he should pull it open when he was ready.

  He silently mouthed, One, two, three.

  I stood in front of the doorway, machete in a two-handed grip, the blade pointed at the asphalt.

  The door stood open.

  It was so windy out that it was difficult to hear if there was any movement inside the hangar. There could be a party inside, and I wasn’t hearing it. “I’m going in,” I said.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  I stepped inside slowly, cautiously, looking left and right. There were no windows, not even on the doors. It was great to get out of the wind. Once inside, the noise from that wind subsided some. I listened hard for any sound of movement. It was too dark to see much of anything, and somehow, the room still felt large and foreboding. It reminded me of the time Allison and I drove through West Virginia on our way to Georgia. It had been the middle of the night and the road was full of twisted turns and curves and tunnels. You couldn’t see anything except what lay dead-ahead in the shallow beam of the car’s headlights. The Allegheny Mountains hugged every stretch of road, and despite a splash of light now and then from vehicles headed in the opposite direction, it was a pitch black that consumed everything and yet, you just sensed the size and greatness of the mountain range. They were a clear and obvious presence, both inducing a level of fear and comfort, perhaps because they have stood for centuries hidden at night by the nothingness of darkness.

  I stepped to
the left, backed up against the wall and felt around for a light switch. “Check along the wall by you for a light,” I said.

  Somewhere, something fell over and rolled. The noise echoed and was loud enough that I jumped and banged my shoulder into the wall. It sounded hollow, like an empty paint can, or some kind of tin bucket. “Dave?” I said, and hoped he’d knocked something over.

  “Wasn’t me. Guessing it wasn’t you, then?”

  “No, not me. Shit.” It’s what I feared. My hand ran up and down the wall with a bit more urgency. There had to be a switch. Rooms all over the world kept light switches on the wall by a door. It was common fucking sense, to be expected. And yet, I couldn’t find a switch.

  Lights came on, slowly, the long fluorescents buzzed and flickered, running along the walls and then finally lit the whole place with blinding brilliance.

  I saw it and with no time to kill, dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way. The zombie was fast and lunged at me. Before I could get back up onto my feet, it was on me, knocked the machete from my hands and out of reach. It growled and grunted as it pinned me down.

  Most of the thing’s lower lip was gone. The flesh peeled away and hung from the bottom of his chin. A steady flow of thick, slow oozing black blood drooled from the corners of its severed mouth. Patches of the thing’s hair were chunked away from its skull. One swollen eye was shut, the lid looked blistered as if severely burned. The days of zombie life had not been kind to this creature. If I got my way, things would get a lot worse.

  At this angle, though, with me on my back and the freaking thing straddling me, I could not reach the machete. Only thing I could do was unclip the sheath on my hip and pull the hunting knife free. I shouted over and over, “Dave!”

  I heard a struggle coming from somewhere else in the room. Sound echoed and carried and bounced around and against the walls like a fucking whacked out racquetball.

  I took hold of the zombie’s shirt collar and pulled him down toward me. As I brought my other arm up fast, I punched the blade into the thing’s ear. Something popped and before it fell off me, an eyeball rolled free from the left socket.