Before the Dead Walked, page 23
The stunned Canadians started to get to their feet, bewildered and incensed that without provocation, they were suddenly attacked. As a group, they converged on the Camaro.
Powers shouted, “The Montreal Canadians suck! You’re such a bunch of hosers, gorbies, and doughheads.”
Where exactly Specialist Powers picked up his vocabulary of Canadian insults was a matter for discussion later, but he flung them like lumberjack axes. The crowd charged. For all their anger, it was difficult to make headway when showered in gravel.
This time Powers had an even more diabolical plan. He zoomed up to the flagpole, jumped out, and cut the cord. The Maple Leaf flag fluttered down into his outstretched hands. He jumped back in behind the wheel of the Camaro and yelled, “Come on, you tools.”
With the Canadian flag in one hand, waving it out the window, the specialist drove down the road a few hundred feet, revving the motor. The Canadian soldiers and police officers, bloodied and angry, ran to their vehicles, including two motorcycles. When they closed on him, Powers sped away, but only far enough so his pursuers wouldn’t lose sight of him.
Darby looked at Hatch.
“Every single man abandoned his post to chase him,” Sergeant Stillwell said with disbelief.
“I really didn’t think it would work,” Sergeant Ramirez said.
“Well let’s not stick around talking about it,” Darby scolded his comrades. “Mount up!”
Everybody hopped aboard the SUVs, CWO Collins in the lead. He approached the border crossing station slowly, wary of a trap. Off road he steered and cut across the inner edge of the adjoining grassland, just in case it was mined. It took less than two minutes to reach US soil. Then he floored it, speeding down the road and through the adjoining small town, but Darby wanted to keep going for at least five miles or so.
Almost immediately, the Americans knew that things had truly gone wrong in their native land. There was nothing but silence.
Literally, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.
It was a fact that North Dakota wasn’t the most populated state in the Union, but each and every town they drove into was empty, ghost towns in the strictest definition of the word. The Rangers would pile out of their vehicles to provide fire support, but after refueling and ransacking retail stores for food and supplies, not once were they confronted with angry citizens or zombies.
There was just nobody around.
Not a single soul.
Nobody.
No one.
Nada.
Not even a stray dog or cat wandered around begging for food or petting.
It wasn’t just creepy or eerie.
It was disturbing.
Then, about ten miles further up the highway, they came across a pile of skeletons, carcasses, and corpses. The dead were neatly laid out in rows, as if carefully arranged after death and awaiting eventual burial.
Unfortunately scavengers had picked many of the bodies clean to the bone.
In some cases, even the bones were missing, presumably carried off. What was even more confusing was the fact that none of these people had been killed by zombies, or they would have reanimated. They hadn’t been shot either and by all outward appearances, they had died peacefully.
The travelers suddenly heard the rumbling sound. It was the telltale noise a finely-tuned racecar makes as it is traveling flat out. As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the reflection was dazzling off the front hood of a 1969 Camaro ZL1.
Specialist Powers pulled up alongside the stopped SUVs. His window was down and he looked like a kid who had just raided a toy store.
Darby chuckled and shook the driver’s hand. “Well done, Specialist, well done. Since we have such a fast vehicle in our inventory, I’m making you our official scout. So scout ahead and find us a safe place to spend the night.”
Powers saluted. “Yes, First Sergeant. I’ll be right back.”
The muscle car zoomed off.
“You’ll never separate him from that car now, Sarge,” Sergeant Ramirez said. “I hope you haven’t created a monster.”
Darby thought about it for a moment. He too worried that the muscle car might change the specialist in ways unaccounted for.
Powers wasn’t gone very long. He found the perfect place to bivouac for the night. The SUVs followed him for about three miles, where he turned down a gravel road to a beautiful municipal riverside park. There were picnic tables and metal grills. It was peaceful and secluded. More importantly, it couldn’t be seen from the highway.
“Knock down that camping area sign,” Darby ordered Specialist Thomas, who obeyed without hesitation.
The men gathered firewood and started fires in all of the cast-iron grills. When there were plenty of white-hot coals, they broke out the meat and started barbequing a feast. It turned out that the other SUV’s passengers had pilfered cold beer too, so the mood was festive. Darby still posted guards, but the meals were served in shifts. Of course, the central topic of discussion was Specialist Powers and his Camaro. He lifted the hood and showed everybody the engine. There was no denying that Powers was quite proud of his bounty, even if there was blood involved.
It was fun to cook out under the stars, but the conversation was still muted.
Hatch took Alvarez by the hand and they walked away for a few feet, but not out of sight of the campfire. She hesitated getting too close to him, but in the end put her arm around his waist.
“Have you ever taken a long walk along a deserted beach, for all the wrong reasons?” he asked her.
Lupita looked at him and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I just get the feeling that all of this effort is for nothing,” he replied.
Hatch looked across the flat grasslands of North Dakota and sighed.
Ensign Alvarez looped her arm through his and leaned against him. “Don’t give up hope, Robert. I need your strength to make sense of all this.”
“We’re never going to make it back to Georgia, honey,” he said quietly. “We’re going to have to stop and make a stand somewhere. You’ve got all the data we need to survive this scourge, but we’ll have to dig in and develop our own vaccine to treat ourselves first.”
Lupita gently used her fingers to turn his head to face her. Then she kissed him on the lips. It wasn’t filled with passion or desire. Her kiss was sad and desperate.
Hatch just held her close and whispered, “It’s going to be okay, Lupita, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said quietly.
He was surprised her comment didn’t make him angry. “I always keep my promises, Lupita. No matter what happens, I never break a promise.”
The couple returned to the campsite, where they settled down and watched the flames. Every so often the firewood would blaze up, sending sparks into the air. Eventually, everyone agreed to turn in.
It had been an eventful day.
Specialist Thomas volunteered for the first watch.
Specialist Powers slept in his Camaro.
Hatch escorted Alvarez to one SUV, where he made sure she was comfortable. As she scooted into the sleeping bag, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Sleep tight.”
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” she whispered back.
Robert smiled and followed with, “But if they do, hit them with a shoe and make them all mushy and dead.”
Lupita giggled. “Good night, silly man.”
“I’ll be right outside, if you need anything,” he assured her.
The night passed without incident. The stars overhead were incredible.
Everyone awoke with the dawn and the savory smell of freshly brewed coffee. It was amazing that Ensign Alvarez always emerged looking like a runway model. She even offered to make breakfast, but the Rangers politely refused. Granola bars and coffee was sufficient.
Colonel Hatch had obviously not slept at all, because he never ceased watching over Lupita. While she wasn’t aware of this fact, the Rangers, as they switched duty on night security, never missed the fact that the colonel was always vigilant.
Now awake and ready to move out, First Sergeant Darby’s men began to pack up the gear. The conversation was subdued, but they appeared to be in good spirits.
Buzz.
Specialist Powers hit the bumblebee with the back of his hand, which sent it smacking against the parked vehicle. It hit the ground, dead.
Ensign Alvarez stepped up and slapped the specialist hard across the face.
Everybody flinched at the sound of impact.
Powers jumped forward and shouted, “What the fuck, bitch!”
Hatch’s hand rested on his sidearm, but he caught Darby’s eye. The Sergeant had his weapon already drawn.
“You stupid idiot,” she fired back, standing toe-to-toe with the specialist. “With bees carrying the possible cure to this zombie plague and you kill one? I’ve seen mental midgets before, but you haven’t got enough brains to light a match.”
“Fuck you, lady,” Powers said. “I don’t have to take your abuse.”
“When the honey bee dies out, will it be your problem then?” Lupita demanded.
“No,” Specialist Powers answered. “They’re just bugs.”
“Then you’re a fucking moron,” she countered.
“Fuck you!” he swore in desperation, because he could see it on the other’s faces. They had already sided with the ensign. All the weapons were pointed at him.
“When all the bees are dead, the food won’t get pollinated and you’ll die of starvation. Is it your problem then?” Alvarez followed.
John Powers stammered. He didn’t know what to say next.
It was a good thing too, because Robert Hatch was just seconds from shooting Powers dead. Had the specialist said one more antagonistic thing, he would have died with a bullet between his eyes.
“Albert Einstein said that if the honey bee dies out, humans would have no more than four years to live,” Lupita Alvarez stated for everyone’s behalf. “It does appear that bees might make the difference in more ways than just pollination.”
Colonel Hatch sighed. “Ensign, we need to get your information to the proper authorities, so they can develop a cure.”
“What makes you think there’s anybody left alive, sir?” Sergeant Ramirez asked.
Hatch spun around on one heel. “Jesus, Sergeant, because we’re American soldiers and we will never be less. We will do our best, always, and never fail to uphold the ideals that make our country great. They’re not just words.”
Lupita went over and retrieved the dead bee. She slipped it into a tiny pillbox she produced from an upper flight suit pocket.
Sergeant Darby took control of things again. “Everybody needs to calm down. Specialist Powers, if you say another word to Ensign Alvarez, without my approval, I’ll place you under arrest. We’re back in the States now, so it’s up to us to get as far as we can. I’ve plotted our course to link up with as many military bases as we can get to on the way south. If we can find someone in command, then we might be able to make a difference. Now let’s pack up and move out.”
This time Lupita Alvarez went straight to Hatch. “I’m riding with the Colonel.”
There was no argument from anyone. That’s not to say that all the Rangers were pleased with this arrangement, but they weren’t about to openly express their dissatisfaction.
The two SUVs were refueled and packed with the supplies pilfered from nearby abandoned houses and stores. With extra jerry cans of gas, the convoy should be able to get pretty far before they ran low. The idea was to travel back roads, cut across country if necessary, and scout out any bridges before crossing them.
It was roughly 323 miles from where they were standing to reach South Dakota. Heading almost due south along Highway 85, the convoy was able to maintain a speed of 80mph. Off in the distance, the abandoned oil rigs and rusting equipment were stark reminders of yet another oil boom gone bust.
First Sergeant Darby insisted his travelers stop whenever possible to ransack the surrounding businesses, especially gas stations and grocery stores. This included hardware stores and gun shops too. The Rangers considered ammunition the top priority, but weren’t all that choosey when it came to weapons. The car top carriers were stuffed with compound bows, carbon arrows, grizzly points, and survival rations.
Originally planned for a 5+hour drive, it turned out to be more like nine hours, with all the scavenging stops. However, nobody complained, because the pickings were plentiful and the Rangers especially felt successful in recovering weapons, food, and even clothing.
When they reached Rapid City, South Dakota, it too was nothing more than a ghost town. The streets were empty and not a living soul was seen, not even any zombies. It was as if all living humans had vacated the area.
Taking time to refuel, the Rangers were noticeably uneasy, fearing the Black Hills might suddenly erupt with horrible zombies streaming down upon them. There was no evidence to suggest this was even a possibility, but after all the miles and all the situations they had already faced, their concern was understandable.
First Sergeant Darby delayed going up to Mount Rushmore until they had searched Rapid City’s police departments. After gathering weapons, ammunition, and body armor, they all agreed to change into black BDUs. It was then that Ensign Alvarez commented how nice it would be to take a hot shower. Everyone agreed.
They found a nice hotel and settled into separate rooms. Surprisingly, the lights worked, there was running hot water, and it seemed as if everything was normal.
All except there were no people to be seen.
The Rangers showered and hit the sack for some quality sleep.
Lupita and Robert shared a room, but slept in separate beds.
After a good night’s sleep, the travelers headed towards Mount Rushmore. Most of them had never seen the monument before and agreed it would be a fitting stop on their way south. Now always out ahead was Specialist Powers, driving his 1969 Camaro ZL1.
Chapter 20
Mount Rushmore
Mount Rushmore National Memorial was an immense sculpture carved into the granite face of Mount Rushmore, a batholith in the Black Hills near Keystone, South Dakota, United States. Sculptor Gutzon Borglum created the sculpture’s design and oversaw the project's execution from 1927 to 1941 with the help of his son, Lincoln Borglum. Mount Rushmore featured 60-foot sculptures of the heads of four United States presidents: George Washington (1732–1799), Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826), Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919), and Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865).
Once the Rangers had conducted a thorough reconnaissance of the monument and surrounding area, they agreed that the facility would offer a pretty solid defensive position. At least for the next few days, it was the perfect place to clean up, get some consistent sleep, eat some hot meals, and re-provision. With nearby Keystone so close, the Rangers could loot, pilfer, and abscond with anything useful they found.
The flora and fauna of Mount Rushmore were similar to those of the rest of the Black Hills region of South Dakota. Birds included the turkey vulture, bald eagle, hawk, and meadowlark, which flew around Mount Rushmore, occasionally making nesting spots in the ledges of the mountain. Smaller birds inhabited the surrounding pine forests. Terrestrial mammals included the badger, coyote, bighorn sheep, bobcat, elk, mule deer, and American bison. Grizzly Bear Brook and Starling Basin Brook, the two streams in the memorial, supported fish such as the longnose dace and the brook trout. Mountain goats were not indigenous to the region. Those living near Mount Rushmore were descendants of a tribe that Canada gifted to Custer State Park in 1924, which later escaped. All of this wildlife could provide the group with a ready supply of fresh meat.
At lower elevations, coniferous trees, mainly the ponderosa pine, surrounded most of the monument, providing shade from the sun. Other trees included the bur oak, the Black Hills spruce, and the cottonwood. Nine species of shrubs grew near Mount Rushmore. Ensign Alvarez noticed right away that there seemed to be a lot of honey bees hovering over the flower-decorated meadows.
Towards higher elevations, plant life became sparser.
Colonel Hatch looked up at the famous monument. “Theodore Roosevelt was always my favorite president.”
“I remember you now,” First Sergeant Darby suddenly blurted. “You’re that officer who told the President of the United States to kiss your ass!”
Hatch grimaced. “Yes, but it wasn’t quite like that.”
Maxwell grinned from ear-to-ear. “Damn, I knew there was something I liked about you, sir!”
Ensign Alvarez giggled. “See, Robert, you have fans from all around the globe.”
“You know, people, I would like to be remembered for something other than that poor act of judgment,” the colonel said sheepishly. “I did have a promising military career before I told the commander-in-chief what I thought.”
The Rangers all laughed.
All things considered, this bunch of people had developed quite a bond. They had been through a lot, but still stayed true to each other. Perhaps that was the best indication that eventually everything would be okay, at least on the surface.
Trust.
Loyalty.
Friendship.
Love.
Of course, there was still a long trip to make. According to Lupita’s calculations, verified by CWO Collins, the distance from the Black Hills of South Dakota, to Atlanta, Georgia was over 1,540 miles. The group gathered together in the memorial’s modern movie theater to discuss their options.
“We’re never going to make it back to Georgia,” Specialist Powers stated what he thought was obvious. “I say we stay right here.”
Colonel Hatch cleared his throat, before he spoke. “I happen to agree with the specialist. I think we need to hunker down and prepare for the worst.”
“Do you have a place in mind, sir?” Darby asked with renewed respect.
“How about right here, Sergeant,” Hatch replied, repeating what Powers had suggested.
