Z Children (Book 2): The Surge (10 page)

More
did come. Of course they did. Efficiently, I picked them off one-by-one. I
didn’t want to fully retreat into the vehicle because, once inside, I’d be
restricted in where I could aim, blinded from a dozen angles. I didn’t think
they could get in once the door was shut, but I wasn’t sure I could get back
out either. If they swarmed the vehicle and waited us out, then the armored
truck would become less a sanctuary and more a tomb. I pulled the trigger
again, downed another racing demon. I’d keep them at bay for as long as possible.

That’s
all I could. One man, one useless woman. No miracle in sight.

Moments
passed.

More
gunfire. More fallen bodies.

 The
steady stream of a few at a time was turning into a converging, rushing river
of Z’s. I only had forty-two rounds left, not including the limited rounds for
the pistols. I brought another monster into my peep sight and pulled the
trigger.

Forty-one
bullets now.

The
more I fired, the more appeared. It was a cruel and impossible game.

Forty.
Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight rounds left.

It was
almost to that point—there were almost too many, coming from too many sides.

A
sound to my right had me swinging the rifle to focus on a new threat, another
enemy to worsen the odds of survival.

But
this wasn’t what I expected to see, not a new pack of Z’s from a new direction.
No, it was a vehicle coming straight at me. One that I recognized, one that
caused me to stop counting ammo and start counting my lucky damn stars.

“Doc,
get your ass out here!” My yell was nearly triumphant, and my tone brought
Chris bounding from the very back of the truck like a lightning bolt.

I
didn’t care how they’d gotten to us; I didn’t care that they’d left the hotel
room against my orders. Seeing Virginia behind the wheel of the Hummer made God
a real and present force. The military truck came to a grinding halt next to me
and I yanked the passenger door open as soon as I heard Bonnie throw the combat
lock into the unsecured position. While pulling off another shot at an incoming
bogey, I roughly shoved my package into the front seat then pushed in beside
her. Chris had to scramble awkwardly to make room. Hummer seats aren’t the most
comfortable or spacious. Bonnie had already climbed swiftly into the back of
the Hummer; Ranger was beside her, his eyes grateful to see me.

“Go!
Go! Go!” I shouted as I pulled the truck’s door closed with a deafening slam
and relocked the door.

 The
first kid landed on the hood as Virginia slammed her foot against the gas pedal.
The old engine made the truck leap forward with a cough-like rumble, causing
the little blood-covered kid to fall off and into the path of the tires. The
crunching sound his body made being crushed and the bump that sent us all
jolting toward the truck’s ceiling made us all grimace.

As Virginia
swerved the vehicle to safety, I felt a pressure on my arm. Looking down, I saw
that Chris was wrapping a wound with a torn bit of her shirt. She did it
slowly, clinically, as if I were just another patient on any ordinary day. I
could see that side of her, the one that wouldn’t deal well with harsh reality,
but would instead revert to what was comfortable and rational. I hoped I was
wrong, though.

When
Chris was done working on my arm, I didn’t thank her. Now that we were moving
away from the hospital and the mission was over, my body was beginning to focus
on its own needs again. I had to piss. I was hungry. And, damn, was I tired. As
far as I was concerned, Chris was the reason for all of my discomfort. Cleaning
up one minor injury when my body was damn-well covered with bangs, bruises, and
cuts, didn’t mean much.

As
soon as the hospital was a few blocks behind us, the truck slowed quickly and
halted to a full stop. I opened my mouth to tell Virginia to keep the damn
Hummer moving, but before I could utter a word, the vehicle was filled with sobbing,
laughing, and the general sappiness of a reunited couple. The emotional impact
wasn’t something I was totally immune to, but we didn’t have time to waste on
sentimentality.

I
parted my lips once more, ready to be the asshole—the person that got things
done without worrying about being P.C. or hurting feelings—but Virginia’s joy
became words, and her words were so grateful, so sincere, that the asshole
melted away (against my better judgement).

“You
saved her.” Virginia’s words were nearly incoherent and she was reaching across
Chris’s body to grip my knee. She didn’t even notice the slice in my pants and
the blood. It hurt like hell when her fingers gripped, but I didn’t grunt,
didn’t let her know. “Thank you, JW. Thank you.” And then both she and Chris
were bawling uncontrollably, back full into the over-romanticizing of basic
survival.

The
women held onto each other firmly, carrying on like we weren’t in the middle of
a Z infested city. I just stared at them.
I will never understand women.
Shit, and now I got three on my hands.

A sigh
from the backseat drew my attention. Looking over my shoulder, I caught
Bonnie’s eye roll.
Well, you ain’t bad, kid. I’ll give you that.
Ranger,
pushing against Bonnie’s side, gave a throaty rumble in agreement as if reading
my thoughts. Per usual.

My
asshole stayed silent for a good ten minutes. I thought that was generous as
hell. And then I was breaking into their happiness, reminding them of the
danger that loomed over us like a giant fucking storm cloud, and muscling my
way into the driver’s seat. They acted like they didn’t hear me, moved out of
my way without even looking me in the face.

Virginia
continued to cling to Chris like kudzu on an abandoned building.

PART II

JW, RANGER, VIRGINIA, CHRIS & BONNIE

The
fuel didn’t last long.

Only
twenty miles outside of the cesspool that was Dallas, the Hummer had come to a
slow and labored stop on the side of the road.

The
sun was lower in the sky than JW would have liked it to be, maybe three
o’clock. If it was just him and Ranger, the prospect of night wouldn’t be an
issue. But it wasn’t just him and his trusted partner and he didn’t want to be
stranded without a vehicle with two still-oblivious, muddled-headed women and a
girl barely into puberty.

They’d
all known they’d only get so far with the fuel they had, but it hadn’t made the
reality any easier. For several moments after the truck had stopped, they’d all
just sat staring out the windshield as if a gaggle of diminutive monsters was
going to appear out of nowhere and take advantage of their attractive
stillness.

JW
might have prevented the situation—he could have scouted Dallas for a
replacement instead of hot-tailing it out of the danger zone. There’d been
plenty of options along the way, all needing a little body dumping and blood bagging
before they’d chance sitting on the seats. Protecting against contagion would
have taken time, though, and left them exposed for precious minutes. Still,
that might have been preferable to the empty tank and prospect of moving
forward without steel and glass between their bodies and danger.

 Scratching
his head, JW’s thoughts were self-abusing. He was thinking back, wondering what
he could have done—how he could have made more of an effort to replace their
vehicle while in the city.
I could have found something clean, something
filled…a car that was untouched by the carnage. I’m not thinking straight, too
damn distracted by the damn women.

 “What
now?” Chris’s voice traveled to JW, broke into his mind, and made him
relinquish the 20-20 hindsight. Virginia was leaning against her shoulder, her
eyes still locked on the road past the Hummer’s front end like she was willing
the vehicle to begin moving, gas or no gas.

“We go
on foot,” JW’s voice was stoic. He tried to sound more confident than he felt.
Traveling in the open with two women and a girl in tow didn’t make for the best
odds. Ranger was a compensation for the dead weight, but JW wasn’t sure the
dog’s training would be enough to balance out the scale.

“On
foot. Won’t it be dark soon?” Bonnie’s voice filtered toward JW from the back;
it was semi-muffled by Ranger’s body—her face was pressed into the folds of his
still-existing fur.

“You’ll
be okay, kid. Ranger’s not gonna let shit happen to you. And we’ve got a few
hours before dark still.” JW tried to smile, but it was forced and shadowed by
stubble.

“Don’t
curse around Bonnie,” Came Virginia’s foggy whisper. JW turned to her, watched
her raise her body into a properly-seated position. Yet, her eyes still stayed
glued forward, as if entranced. “She’s been through enough. Let’s not ruin her
any more than we have to.”

“End
of the world and you’re worried I’ll corrupt a kid with bad language. Get your
priorities in order, Virginia,” JW grumbled, not liking the twinge of guilt he
felt in his stomach. ‘Shit’ wasn’t even that bad of a word. He shifted in his
seat enough to see Bonnie and Ranger in the back.

Bonnie
looked square at JW; her voice was strong when she spoke, no longer a mumble
between lips and dog hair. “First,
I am not a kid
, JW. And second, I’ve
heard a lot worse than shit, Gin.”

She
was shuffling around in the back seat and Ranger moved slightly away to give
her breathing space. Watching them, JW could see the bond continuing to form
between girl and dog—it was an almost visible cord with a tensile strength that
would rival a hoist cable.

JW
looked Bonnie full in the face, turning more in his seat to do so. “Kid, even
if you’d managed to fill this thing to the max with diesel back there; it eats
fuel. It wasn’t ever going to last us. We won’t be on foot for long. We just
need to find fuel and a better vehicle, one suited to get us long distance and
take a hit. Then we’ll be off again. No more stopping or taking chances on
hope-based rescues for loved ones.”

“Hope-based
rescues…” Bonnie’s voice petered out and the smallest touch of sadness changed
her expression minutely. “I’ve got no hope. Pretty sure everyone I love is dead
already.”

Silence
filled the vehicle; it was a heady and suffocating thing.

Chris
cleared her throat and broke the quiet, “And where do you plan on taking us?”
The doctor had regained most of her professional composure and was beginning to
act more like the man of the house than the whimpering female JW had rescued
from the zombie-overrun hospital.

“Someplace
we can hold up for a while, lick our wounds, and come up with a solid game
plan. Bonnie once mentioned her uncle’s place, even has a fair idea where it
might be, but I don’t want to hang my hat on a fair idea. So we pick a direction
and we go."

“Then
I say we go east. I know people on the coast there outside Virginia Beach. I
think they’d take us in.” Chris’s mouth was set in a determined line. JW
appreciated her confidence, but at the same time, she needed to realize that he
was heading up operations. She’d just joined his party, not the other way
around.

“You
do realize that the further east we travel, the denser the population and the
higher the probability of dying is.” Ranger grunted as if understanding the
whole conversation.

“Yes I
do, but if there is any stability, then it will be towards DC, the Quantico
triangle, all the other government entities localized in the metro region. NIH,
the CDC.” Chris ticked off on her fingers all the things in the District—one of
the places in the U.S. that JW definitely didn’t want to head towards.

“And
you don’t think the first thing the government would do is high-tail it out and
protect their precious political asses?” Yet, as JW looked at her, he mulled
through her logic. It was sound, if a bit stupid—the three of them trying to
make it 1500 miles to what may be civilization. But what options were there
really? He didn’t want to hole up in a warehouse eating beans with two dykes, a
girl, and Ranger, twiddling his thumbs hoping that rescue would show up. No, he
wasn’t a sitter. He needed to do something—hit the road, find out what’s
happening the world, die if that was the end game. He was too much of a warhorse
to sit on his ass.

“I
know you’re thinking it over,” Chris continued, “so add this into your ‘I’m in
charge’ brain equation—Virginia and I are both doctors, highly specialized
doctors. Include our observations of the outbreak here and evaluations of the
international spread, and we may be invaluable doctors. We have an obligation
to get somewhere so we can help—”

“Okay,”
JW cut her short. “Let’s get this straight right now.
We have no obligations
to anyone or anything except to ourselves. Except to stay alive.
If we—and
it’s a big if—make it to a secure facility, then you and Virginia can create
all the obligations you want for yourself. Now, though, you’ll leave me,
Ranger, and Bonnie the fuck out of your ‘save the world’ nonsense. Up until
then, you will follow everything I say and I will keep you alive.” JW watched
Chris turn beet red. “With that said, your point is valid and east,
at this
time,
is the best option. No DC, though. No way. Atlanta…there’s a CDC
there, right?”

Chris
nodded. Her lips parted slightly, but one look from JW had her clamping her
mouth shut again.

JW
didn’t nod, he didn’t show any sign that he’d noticed Chris deferring to his
command. “Now grab those rucks we ‘borrowed’ from the Texas National Guard and
let’s move. We only have about three hours of daylight left, and I would just
as soon not be caught out in the open after dark.”

“I
used to like nighttime,” Bonnie whispered, burying her face deeper into
Ranger’s scarred body. “Not so much anymore.”

Ranger’s
body was vibrating with repressed action. He was ready to go because JW was
ready to go. “I’ve been scared of the dark for more than a decade now, Kid.
You’ll get used to it.” JW blew a sharp, brief whistle. Ranger leapt from the
backseat and out the door that JW had already swung open. “Besides,” JW paused,
waiting for Bonnie—now abandoned by the dog she was using for comfort, “I’m a
lot scarier than the bitches that go bump in the night.”

Virginia
sucked in a breath at hearing JW curse once again, but this time she said
nothing.

Following
the dog out, JW could hear Chris muttering under her breath. He didn’t really
give a shit what she was mumbling. Turning back to the Hummer for just long
enough to yank his faded tan pack off the front seat, JW frowned, seeing the
drinking hose that threaded through the top of the pack was cracked, rendering
it useless. Once, he’d had a hose cover, but its seam had split and he hadn’t
taken the time to fix it yet. A dumb move.

The
water bladder the ruined drinking tube was connected to was empty now. He
should have filled it in the hospital. That would have been city water with
back up reserves. Untainted.

Like
he’d had time to think about that while trying to get Chris’s ungrateful ass
out.

JW
fought the urge to turn around and give the doctor a particular raised finger.
Ignoring the urge brought scorching thirst into his awareness. Seeing the tube
damage and knowing the bladder was empty, had made JW insanely thirsty. A
typical psychological response.
Even if I get a water refill, it’ll be a
bitch to use. I need to come up with a solution when I don’t have a million other
fucking things to handle.

Virginia
had finally shaken off the haziness of shock and moved her body. She stood next
to the Hummer and stared at JW, finally seeing all of the injuries across his
body that he’d suffered from rescuing Chris. “JW…Jesus, you’re really hurt.”

JW
looked at Virginia. “I’m fine.”

“We
need to clean you up,” she retorted, firm-voiced.

“I’m.
Fine.”

“No
you’re not.”

“Woman,
if I say I’m fine, then I’m fine.”

“You’re
a big idiot, JW. Just let me check you out, please.” Virginia held her hands
out, a gentle pleading in the action.

Chris
looked at Virginia and JW, how they were arguing, but that it was out of caring
and not anger. She didn’t like that—the connection she was seeing between the
two.

“He
said he’s fine, Virginia. Let him go,” Chris said coldly as she opened her own
door and started to get out. Looking at the one bandage on JW’s arm, Chris
suddenly wished she’d not imparted the kindness. Not that it was actually performed
with a kind heart. It had been more a natural reaction to seeing an injury.
She’d done it mechanically. But she could pass it off as a thank you now, even
if it was a tad dishonest to do so.

Ranger
was sitting on his haunches waiting patiently for the humans to get their acts
together. His fur was down, his ears not perked. There was no danger nearby.

JW
threaded his arms through the pack’s straps and started walking. It felt
natural to be on foot; his companions would feel out of their depth though.
They just needed to be smart, needed to listen. After a few steps, JW realized
Ranger wasn’t at his heels—which was unusual. He whistled again and kept
walking. Behind him, Ranger gave a sharp bark. Pausing, JW rotated just enough
to catch sight of Bonnie climbing out from the back seat. Once she was beside
the dog—her hands gripping a sack that was too big for her, but handling it
like a champ—Ranger stood and pushed his head into the girl’s thigh in a show
of comfort and camaraderie.

They
walked together, girl and dog, towards JW and, once again, he was struck by the
bond that was forming. There was a pang of loss there. Ranger was the closest
thing JW had to family. Of course, he was getting damn fond of that kid, too,
as useless and prepubescent as she was. Virginia and Chris could go hang
themselves. Not that he’d actually let them. He said he’d keep them alive and
he was a man of his word. For the most part.

The
three—drifter, dog, and kid—were a silhouette against the fading sun striding
away from the Hummer. Virginia and Chris were watching their companions leave
without so much as a backwards glance at the two left behind. It struck
Virginia that she wanted to follow JW more than she wanted to stand beside
Chris.

She
didn’t know how to handle that feeling, considering her absolute elation such a
short time ago over the fact that the woman she loved was still alive.

Because
she did love Chris.

But at
that moment, watching her other companions leave her, the ring on her finger
felt like a hundred-pound weight. A tether she could do without.

* * *

VIRGINIA

“How
in the hell have you been able to put up with him?” Chris asked her partner as
she slung one of the heavy ruck sucks onto her shoulders.

“He’s
a good man, rough around the edges, but good,” I replied. I didn’t like the
tone in her voice. It was ugly and directed at a man—no, a person—who had saved
my life. I didn’t give a shit about gender, not the way Chris always had. He’d
saved her life. She should be grateful, not critical.

“Maybe
so, but he’s still a man—all orders and looking down on anything with breasts.
Not sure I trust him. I’m surprised you seem to like him so much.”

“I do
like him. I like him a lot. He saved me, Chris. I’d be dead without him. So
would you.” I knew that my voice had a little edge of anger to it. I hadn’t
realized I was growing so protective of JW.