Chapter Seventeen
The Road to Washington
“This is Brigadier General James Logan. Do you hear me Cygan?” Even though Logan was planning on recruiting his old friend to try and execute Abraham’s plan, he was still angry with him.
He had made the wrong call to bomb New York. That much Logan was sure of. What had happened at the fire station in Valhalla was proof that no matter how many bombs he set off and no matter how many towns and cities he reduced to rubble, one would still get through.
He wasn’t wiping out carriers or killing as many of the zombie horde as he could. He was robbing people of any chance to survive.
“Cygan?” There was no answer.
The battery on Logan’s radio must have been on the way out. So he told himself. There was no other explanation beyond Cygan and the staff at the White House having been overrun.
Lizzie opened her eyes with a flutter. They had been on the icy road for an hour without incident. Jack was happy to do all of the driving. He coaxed the vehicle gently over the frozen roads and artistically swung it around any obstacle they came into contact with.
A few roads were difficult to pass with the level of snow or an abandoned car here or there but there had been nothing to significantly slow them down yet. Logan was sat in silence in the back gently cradling Lizzie.
His thoughts danced between his hope that she would be ok and Abraham. He couldn’t get the image out of his head. That torn and deflated zombie that Abraham had become. The bullet he shot from his own gun that ripped through Abraham’s skull and shredded his dead brain. Why had he kept his eyes open? Was it that he owed the man the zombie used to be at least the courtesy of watching its final moments? Or was it that a part of him, buried deep under the skin of civilized man, craved the bloodshed and conquest?
He was sure of one thing. He had told Lizzie how he thought the war against the zombies was a faceless war. He told her that he thought the monsters represented a faceless society, one that had been doomed, and they could be glad that it was falling. It was hard to think that anymore.
It was hard to think of it as a faceless war against an old world that they secretly wanted dead anyway. When the last face he had seen was Abraham’s as it exploded in a sorrowful rain of blood. The impersonal zombie war just hit home as hard as it could.
‘Don’t try to move.’ Logan held a firm hand on her shoulder as she started to stir. With every blink Logan stared further into her eyes. They still had color and focus to them. No dazed milky white. She was ok. She hadn’t turned.
She was happy to be held down. It made her feel looked after like a child and she felt secure under his grip. It was a self-indulgence she allowed herself after knocking so hard on death’s door only a few hours before. Logan had found a few water bottles stuffed down the sides of the back doors. They were still full. There were some sweets, jellies, éclairs and few biscuits in the glove box in the front too. That was all they had to satisfy their hunger that day.
‘What the fuck happened.’ She enunciated the curse word after a long gulp of cold water. It was fun to swear and use the word to release some pent up aggression. Logan smiled a little. It reminded him of how feisty and full of spunk this girl could be.
‘We lost the fire station, all of the refugees too. And Abraham.’ He didn’t even want to say that last part. He wanted to pretend for a moment that it hadn’t happened and bask in her ignorance of it. But there was no sense in it.
Lizzie sat up slowly and stared blankly into the back of the seat. She tried hard to refocus and bring herself around.
‘I’m so sorry… I… know he was your friend.’ She put one hand up to her battered forehead and placed the other gently upon his shoulder. Logan wasn’t one to need, or ever seek out, comfort from anyone. He shrugged her hand off but was as gentle as he could about it. He almost took out the note to show her but decided that it might have been too much.
‘He’s yours too now.’ He said instead. ‘In death, he saved you.’ He could have spared her the details and just said he died to save her and made that do. She could have used her own imagination to fill in some gaps. But that would have been an unforgivable disservice to Abraham’s heroic self-sacrifice.
She didn’t ask how. Part of her didn’t want to know. But the other part needed to.
‘His lab got overrun while we were still in the fire station. He was trying to get a hold of us but his radio stopped working for some reason.’ He stopped when her lip started quivering. Maybe he should have stopped altogether. ‘He was about to take his own life and spare himself the inevitable fate of being eaten when I told him you had passed out and might be getting the first stages of the flu. He told me he had the resources at hand to make a broad spectrum anti-biotic that would bring you out of it pretty quickly.’
‘Oh fuck…’ She sobbed with a hand over her mouth.
‘The short story is that he let himself get infected, bitten, and knew his own reanimated corpse would be able to walk the antibiotics over to us at the fire station past the army of zombies.’ Logan finished the macabre story as Lizzie burst into a flood of tears.
‘He saved your life. But I couldn’t save his.’ Logan gritted his teeth again. Lizzie didn’t care if he was in the mood for affection, comfort, or just wanted someone to punch him out for being a failure. She shuffled over and wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her head down on his shoulder. She sobbed quietly over him for some time. Logan just wanted her to save her strength. She had just come to. She wasn’t out of the woods just yet.
‘What happened to those two Gunners?’ She asked and sat up again. She kept seeing Jack’s eyes lock onto hers in the mirror up front. Even though she didn’t know he was called “Jack” just yet. Her face was drained of color. She felt pathetic, out of control, and childish. Time to get a hold of yourself. She thought and rubbed her eyes vigorously with her open palms until the tears dried. Logan’s tone changed immediately.
‘I guess they had somewhere else to be.’ He couldn’t help but stay angry at that jumped up prick who wanted to shoot her. Even though he might have been right. Lizzie could sense the hostility and decided not to ask just yet.
Dawn was breaking and Jack was getting a little fidgety up front. He was casually driving up the wrong side of the freeway.
‘I don’t get why people did this.’ He spoke for the first time in hours. He was driving down the wrong side of a freeway to the south of New York City. He was gesturing with an open hand and palm to the long queue of stand-still traffic on the other side.
‘Isn’t it kind of a cliché though too?’ He continued. He bulldozed over the emotional moment the two back seat passengers were embroiled in. He was similar to General Logan in that respect too. Neither seemed to be fans of intense emotional moments.
Logan decided to entertain him and relished the opportunity to change the conversation.
‘What are you talking about?’ He climbed over the seat, remaining as dignified as he could, and into the passenger seat in the front of the cavernous cabin.
‘Every disaster movie I ever saw had the freeway blocked, bumper to bumper, fender to fender, on the right hand side of the central reserve, with every car in the City trying to make it out. Who was trying to make it back in?’ He changed his arm gesture to wave right in front of the steering wheel.
He had a point. The carriageway on the opposite side was completely empty. They could have easily made use of the extra space and used both sides of the freeway to make it out. Logan smiled a little and slouched back.
‘I guess people have a reluctance to break the rules. It gets drilled into them to live a certain way, drive safely on the right, wear your seatbelt and don’t smoke behind the wheel.’ He forced a chuckle. ‘Ignore the mass of walking dead behind you; the real danger is crashing into a stationary vehicle in front of you.’ He said mockingly and tried to imitate some sort of public service announcement.
That helpe
d to lift the tense atmosphere even if it was a tad out of character. Jack had a delightful humor and an admirable way to keep tight hold of it in horrid situations. His silly observation had been well timed to lift some spirits.
‘At least we can make good time.’ He concluded and raised both of his big, bushy, black eye brows.
‘Where are we going?’ Lizzie croaked from the back seat. It was easy for the two in front to forget that she had been out of the loop for a while. She didn’t even know about Abraham’s potential solution.
Logan took the next few minutes to fill her in on what had happened while she was both out of earshot and then out of consciousness. He told her all about what Abraham had noticed about the zombies. She listened with attention but none of it was sinking in. Her head was still pounding and she wasn’t great with the science. The whole idea sounded far-fetched and like something pulled out of a macabre horror.
She remembered that the virus killed most of the brain through oxygen starvation. Abe had told her that in their short meeting. She remembered he had said some of the brain was kept alive by the virus in order to reanimate the fully dead, and by biological definition, dead body. But she would have to take on faith what he had said about the state being similar to the worst effected trauma victims when awakening from deep and prolonged comas.
‘Are you talking about waking the dead?’ She worked up the courage to ask. The question made her feel stupid. It was easy to forget Logan was a Doctor too. But it made her feel sick too. The whole thought of, if she had followed Logan correctly, was to give the poor victims of this horrid 21st century plague a glimmer of humanity back.
‘That’s what Abraham said. I trust him.’
‘What do you think though?’ She raised her voice to an almost accusatory volume. Logan put that fire out right away.
‘I’m a Medical Doctor, not a whole lot more. Abe made me look like a GP for crying out loud. If he thinks this will work then he deserves the benefit of doubt.’ He spoke swiftly and dampened down what could have been an argument.
She felt stupid again. He could be a little cruel and cold sometimes. He made her feel an inch tall again, just like he had back in the New York subway car. She wanted to fall back into that girlishly silly sulk again but fought the reaction hard. She kept her harsh tone though.
‘So where are we going? And how are we supposed to administer a sleeping pill to every snarling zombie out there?’ Logan softened his voice. He never wanted to upset her. Emotions were riding a little high and someone had to take control back.
‘We’re heading to the White House to see General Cygan. I need his help to see if we can weaponise Zolpidem and speed up a delivery system.’ She was calmed a little by the fact he seemed to back down. Her head was still throbbing.
‘So we have to work with Cygan after what he did?’ She could have made that sound sarcastic, or she could have made it sound accusatory in that Logan was selling out all the lives extinguished in New York, she could have carried on in anger too but didn’t.
She might not have been the brightest in the classroom but even she could tell there was no other option. She had matured her thought in the short time she had known General Logan. She was almost starting to get that it was okay that Logan still counted Cygan as a friend even after what he did. She was beginning to understand that the older of the two Generals was only trying to do what he thought was right to make sure the world survived.
Even if that meant reducing it to a smoking ball of dust first. Maybe Cygan could be brought on board with the plan. Maybe he would even relish the opportunity to be a part of it.
The drive was two hours old. The sun had completely broken over the sky now and the storm clouds that had irritatingly lingered over that part of the country were only then, finally, starting to dissipate. For the first time in a long time they could see the blue in the sky and appreciate that there was still some beauty left in the world.
The clouds changed from ominous shields of black and silver to more friendly looking puffy white marshmallows. The virgin snow atop the freeway glistened in the fading headlights of the fire truck and the ever rising sun.
The constant sun. Its very presence in the sky the only thing left in reality to count on every day.
The tires of the truck crunched relentlessly and faithfully over the cracking snow and kept a true and accurate path. The outlying areas of the conurbation of New York had been less harshly covered by the volumes of snow. The mammoth sized slabs of ice in the City changed to thinner patches of fragmented sheets once they got as far out as Valhalla, where the temporary lab had been located.
By the time they reached the outskirts of Philadelphia, about half way of the four to five hour drive, there was barely any at all.
‘I guess I spoke too soon.’ Jack slammed the anchors on to slow the truck down as quickly as he could. Logan had fallen asleep for the first time since they were holed up for that one and only night in Lizzie’s flat. He hadn’t seen the mass of zombies, dormant and not really moving, herded together up the wrong side of the freeway.
There were a few buses overturned and resting on their caved in roofs on the bare tarmac. They were facing the wrong way up the freeway. Someone must have had the same idea about using the empty side to make it out of New York.
When the virus first hit people can’t have realized there was in fact nowhere safe to go that the road could take them to. There were easily fifty or more of them. All ages and races. Men and women too.
The wheels screeched and dug into the tarmac as the heavy truck slowly rattled to a stop. Logan shook his head violently from side to side to wake up.
‘I say go for it!’ He said once the herd of zombies came creeping into view. He glanced briefly at the gas level. It was holding just above a quarter left. They might just be able to make the 226 mile journey if they got past Baltimore and then into the Capital without incident.
If not they were either going to have to fill up or switch vehicle. Logic told him immediately that filling up was going to be near impossible. Gas would be in short supply and stopping at a station would be virtual suicide.
He took his eyes off the zombies for just a moment to check on Lizzie. She had fallen asleep and the commotion of a harsh brake had not even stirred her. He leaned over the seats and tapped her gently but repeatedly on the leg. She snorted in a funny little way that might have even been cute in any other situation. He pointed to the seatbelt behind her.
‘Strap up kid this might get a little rough.’ He said and took his own advice. He pulled his own belt down with a clunk and a click. Jack did the same too for the first time in the journey. It felt to Logan like he was back on that subway car. He had mown down a fair few zombies on those tracks in the same sort of way.
‘Okay, why the Hell not?’ Jack started gunning the engine and the deep thunderous roar stirred the beasts ahead. They raised their flimsy heads around their thin and bony necks to turn and see the fire truck blaring on the horizon.
They looked different here. They looked more decrepit, if that were possible, than any of the zombies they had seen so far. They were more decomposed. More bloated with toxins and gasses. Thinner and bonier too. Their faces, in general, had thinned out considerably to leave the vague indent of a skull beneath thin and cracked skin.
They must have been older. They must have been some of the first few waves. All of the zombies they had encountered in New York, and the ones later in Valhalla, had been freshly turned. They still bore the brunt of their immediate wounds and fresh blood had been spilled all over them. These were stained brown with old blood instead.
Jack slowly introduced the clutch on the manual gearbox and they could all feel the powerful truck lurch forward. He went with that initial momentum and gunned the engine again. He was trying to make a lot of noise and enjoyed the thrill of the engine.
He slammed the selector up a gear and fired the gas pedal again as they started mounting speed.
The tires held comfortably to the tarmac but the whole truck shuddered with Jack’s aggressive driving. Logan reached up and pointed with his finger, while still holding on tight to his seatbelt with his other hand.
‘There!’ He shouted pointing to the gap between the two overturned busses. It looked like they had crashed together and flipped. But there were no other vehicles involved and the road ahead looked clear. ‘Aim for that!’ He confirmed.
‘Yeah I got it.’ Jack spoke softly. The corner of his mouth twitched with the early formation of that beaming smile of his. How could he possibly be enjoying himself?
He held the truck steady as the first zombie crashed into the solid metal bumper. It cracked almost in half and spun off to the left. The thud rocked the entire frame of the engine as the next few hit the same spot and flailed away in similar ways. The truck was too big and powerful to be slowed down.
If he kept up the power, direction and momentum he could avoid getting the wheels bogged down in bodies. Just like he had done at Valhalla. The thuds grew louder and more intense as he hit the core of the group. The shrieks of the monsters overpowered even the grumble of the engine and the constant snapping of bodies, bones and skulls across the metal.
But the plan was working. He rocketed past the two overturned busses with artistic precision. He didn’t even scrape the wing mirrors. That was impressive for the speed of the truck and the small size of the gap between them.
After another few zombies crumpled beneath the weight of the truck they were back in the clear. Jack, with almost comical timing, turned on the washer jets and windscreen wipers. Water gushed out of the sturdy but slightly crumpled hood and splashed over the bloodied windscreen. The wipers started scraping across the dented but not yet cracked glass and smeared the watery blood all across it.
‘I think we made it.’ Jack announced confidently. Not even a glimmer of irony in his voice or on his facial expression as he watched the wipers smear blood across the glass. He was probably still drunk.
The fuel they had left was enough. Logan had repeatedly offered to drive but Jack declined every single time. He was a pilot after all. Handing the driver’s seat over to anyone else at all would have felt like he was relinquishing the only control over his life that he still had.
There were no more hold-ups on the freeway. The road remained eerily deserted. That was an unsettling fact all three of them were grateful for. Baltimore was clear so long as Jack stayed the course on the wrong side of the freeway. Getting into Washington was easy enough too as dusk fell once again.
They had all expected more resistance. More of the zombies out on the road or in the streets as they got closer to the Capital. Other than a few of them still trapped in cars, or some lying on their broken bodies at the sides of the roads, still snapping their jaws in desperation, there were hardly any at all.
Maybe they had moved on to find new sources of food. The zombies acted differently in New York. They were still trying to act out the lives of the people they used to be. They were like ghosts with some kind of unfinished business. If that last guess was true, that they had moved on to seek out new sources of food, it would make them so much more the dangerous.
They were no longer trying to cling onto their former lives. They were, instead, giving in entirely to the powerful instinct to feed.
The outside lights still lit the White House up in the darkness of night as they pulled up onto Constitution Avenue and finally turned off the rumbling and struggling engine.