The Last Mile Trilogy Page 16

“Captain.”

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Jeb smiled, and slid from the desk, he crouched before her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hitting on you.”

  “Jeb,” Robi sighed, “I don’t know if you and I starting something is a good idea.”

  “You’re right.” Jeb nodded. “It’s not. It’s a great idea.”

  “No, hear me out. I just don’t know how that will go over. I mean, we’re taking this small group of people across the country. People tend to feel ganged up on when there’s a couple involved.”

  “Sort of like, he does what he does because she wants him to do it?”

  “Exactly,” Robi said. “Or she does what she does because he says so. No one will ever distinguish our opinions as our own. Make sense?”

  “Absolutely. OK.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” He leaned into her and kissed her. “We’ll just keep it secret.” He stood up.

  “Jeb …”

  “Nope. Don’t want to hear it. OK …” Jeb turned and looked over the map, ignoring her laughter. “Where we headed?”

  “If we stay on forty it will take us nearly to So-Cal,” Robi said.

  “But we really can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Vegas.”

  Robi chuckled. “You really want to go there?”

  “Aside from the fact that Bishop got a signal, yeah, I’d like to. Seriously, what do we have to lose?”

  Robi shrugged. “True.”

  “And we do have Weatherford, OK. It should take us about eight hours to get there,” Jeb said. “I say we leave tomorrow morning, stop there, look for survivors, spend the night, and then head to El Paso. But there is something Tate and I want to do before we leave.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later, but it’ll take us a few hours.”

  “That’s fine.” Robi nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Oklahoma City?”

  Greek’s voice entered the office, “I’m leery about stopping at major cities.” He stepped in. “We just don’t know what is there. We could run into people like the men who killed Mas’ town.”

  Jeb folded his arms. “Makes sense, but what about survivors?”

  Greek shrugged. “Our survival is most important, wouldn’t you say? Getting us to So-Cal is vital. If we find people, great, if not, oh well. I truly believe the second wave is already upon us. We’ve seen no people. That worries me. We’ve been lucky. Let’s keep it that way. We just don’t know what lies ahead.”

  <><><><>

  Doc tagged along. He didn’t have much to do, and when he heard Bishop and Nick were going to a mall, he certainly didn’t want to miss out.

  They parked the borrowed Elvis Cadillac by the front doors for easy exiting.

  It wasn’t a huge mall but it wasn’t small by any means. Both Bishop and Nick were armed with rifles, Mas carried nothing and Doc had Juanita.

  “Where to?” Bishop asked. “You guys coming with us?”

  Doc replied, “Nah, I’ll find you. I want to do some window shopping. Maybe... Juanita here would like something, would you Juanita?” Doc waited. “Would you?” After getting no response, he looked at Bishop.

  Nick nudged him. “Dude, you gotta.”

  Bishop sighed, “It’s my thing.” He paused. “Fine.” Then upped his voice and added the accent, “Oh, no, Doc, I nee na-ting. I just need to be with you.”

  “That a girl.” Doc smiled. “Let’s go.”

  Nick asked, “You think he’ll be OK?”

  “Sure, he’ll be fine,” Bishop said. “Mas?”

  “O-di- taj a grek a mo.” Mas held out his hands. “Mall I am at!” He gasped out, “Be to Glory.” He dropped to his knees and began to kiss the floor.

  Bishop shrugged, “Guess so.”

  “Guess so,” Nick said. “Ready?”

  “Oh, yeah. We’re men on a mission. Let’s go. We know what we need to find.” Tossing his rifle behind his shoulder, Bishop led the way.

  <><><><>

  The thin tin box was about eight inches wide and twelve inches long. It had a depth of four inches, and the case was given to Tate by Greek, along with a list of items that were needed.

  A lot of their medical supplies and emergency things were used up on Ray and needed replenished. Greek wasn’t a doctor, so Tate took the list to Doc, who agreed it was a good list. He brought the list to Robi, but she pretty much said to Tate, if Greek listed it, it’s good.

  The regional medical center was quiet, but it exhibited signs of some struggles when the drop occurred. Tons of cots were lined up with clothing from those who succumbed to the disintegration.

  There were absolutely no sounds or noises from survivors. Bishop insisted that he heard they were there, in fact, last contact made with the television station said they were seventeen strong. Where did they go?

  Tate would look for clues once he finished the task of filling the tin medical box.

  Some of the items were easy to find— gauze, sutures, dressings, antibacterial lotion and morphine. The antibiotics were tricky and it seemed as if he couldn’t find any.

  “Got it.” Tate held up a bottle. “There’s only like three.”

  Manny closed a drawer. “More than I found. What is it?”

  “Good old penicillin.”

  “Penicillin?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

  Manny whined, “I’m allergic. You would think Doc or Robi would think of that.”

  “Do they know?”

  Manny shrugged. “Even so, there are people allergic.”

  “Guess you’re shit out of luck if you get sick.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why don’t I look for a non-penicillin based antibiotic as well?”

  “Could you?” Manny replied. “I’m gonna hit this office here,” he pointed to the door. “See what’s in here.”

  “You do that.” Tate began to rummage about. He was looking for something, but truth be known he had no idea what would be considered a non-penicillin based antibiotic.

  “Tate?” Manny called out.

  “Yeah?”

  “Come here. We have a problem.”

  Closing up the tin box, Tate pulled his rifle forward and went to the office. He pushed open the door. “What’s going on?”

  “I think I found at least one of our survivors.” Manny tilted his head. “No make that two.”

  Tate lowered his weapon. It was an office, a simple one, with a computer and phone, both stained with old dried blood. Body parts, many barely recognizable, lay scattered about. “How do you figure two?’

  “Head.” Manny pointed his gun at the partial head. “And sort of head.” He swung his aim across the room. A quarter of a section of a head lay on the floor. It contained an eye, cheek and piece of an ear.

  “What the hell did this?” Tate asked.

  “Don’t know, but look at this.” Using the end of the rifle, Manny lifted a paper. From under it crawled multitudes of black, spider looking creatures. They weren’t normal spiders; they were too big and their backs were green.

  “Grab one,” Tate said.

  “With what? My hand?”

  “Anything. I’ll find something. We have to get one of these to Doc.” Tate spoke in near shock, eyes focused, “Whatever these things are, they may have something to do with our survivors’ disappearances.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Just a hunch.” With an upward motion of his chin, Tate gave a point toward the first head. Crawling out of its mouth were more of the creatures.

  “Ah, man.”

  “I think I saw a specimen jar in there. I'll be back.” Tate stepped out of the office.

  Manny stood there looking at the creatures. He thought he started seeing more in the brief moments he was alone, but he chalked it up to his imagination. “Tate, hurry up, why don’t you? These things give me the creeps.”

  “G
ot something.” Tate rushed in with a small container. “Where should I take one from?”

  Manny pointed.

  Lifting the lid, Tate brought the petri dish to the table’s surface. As he slid it toward the bug, the insect stood on its hind legs and hissed.

  “Fuck.” Tate retracted his hand. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  It hissed again.

  “That.”

  “Don’t tell me that was the bug?”

  “I won’t,” Bravely, Tate swooped down with the container and caught the bug. He quickly put on the lid with an excited chuckle. “But it was. Got it.” He held it up.

  Hiss.

  Only the hisses were louder, more of them.

  “Tate.” Manny stepped back.

  Tate slowly turned around. “Shit.”

  Multitudes of the bugs began to seethe out of the vents, computer furniture, body parts, almost as if the walls were bleeding them.

  “Run?” Manny asked.

  “Run.” Tate did a spin and jolt out of the room right behind Manny. The hissing grew louder. He slammed the door shut behind him, tossed items on the floor to block the opening at the bottom of the door and raced out.

  <><><><>

  Doc wasn’t real certain he liked being yanked from the mall. He knew Bishop and Nick, who were engaged in an intense video game match, weren’t happy either, but Tate had news.

  Once Doc found out what it was, he got to pull out his trusted microscope, and was happy. He’d had that microscope since med school. It was old, out of date, but it worked.

  “Hmm.” Doc looked at the bug. “Take a look Robi cop.”

  Robi peeked. “Shit.”

  Tate spoke up from out of the group who watched them, “I am no expert by any means, but I can plainly see that bug is fucked up. It’s big enough to not need a microscope.”

  Doc grumbled, “Can’t see the facial features up close butt head.”

  Tate mouthed the words, ‘butt head.’

  “Where did you see it before?” Doc asked Robi.

  “It’s a mutated version of the microbe,” Robi replied.

  “Exactly.”

  Mas stepped forward. “I may?”

  Doc held out his hand. “Be my guest.”

  Mas lifted the petri dish. “Ahh.” He looked at Tate. “Many?”

  “Tons.”

  Mas turned to Jeb. “Must we destroy to, before found is human the scent. Multitudes then come they. Many too to fight. Breach while gathered.”

  “Why?” Jeb asked. “Are they dangerous?”

  “Brave among you who is he?” Mas asked.

  Jeb raised his hand. “Me.”

  Mas took his hand and turned it palms up. “Poison not, pain much is it. Prepared?”

  “Sure.”

  Mas dropped the bug into Jeb’s palm.

  It hissed.

  Jeb’s eyes widened some. “Fuck. Shit.” He shook off his hand. The bug fell to the ground and he stomped on it with a loud crunch. “Fuck.” He held out his hand to Robi. “It started to burrow itself in.”

  “No,” Mas shook his head. “Eat.”

  “It was eating my flesh?” Jeb asked.

  Mas nodded. “One this does.” He pointed to Jeb’s palm. “Many them of, would no Jeb there be.”

  “How do you know this?” Jeb asked.

  “Test it was, enemy of,” Mas replied. “Home of my, dropped many did they.”

  “So you were hit with them?” Jeb shook his head and looked at Robi. “Fuckin’ Chinese come up with all the bio weapons.”

  Robi nodded. “Who would have thought… a bug?”

  Bishop asked, “Mas do they start in the blood stream? We’ve seen something like this in a dog’s blood. Did it make its way out?”

  Mas shook his head. “No. Similar they be.”

  “Ok,” Jeb said calmly. “Obviously, they can die.” He scraped his boot. “But I’m gonna assume there are too many for us to smash. So how can we kill them?”

  Mas reached into Jeb’s tee shirt pocket and pulled out a lighter. “Flame.”

  <><><><>

  “We’re gonna need more than a flame thrower,” was Jeb’s comment when they arrived at Regional Hospital.

  It was bad enough that it took Jeb and Tate over an hour to locate a flamethrower, but the disappointment was worse because they couldn’t use it right away.

  The entire three floor structure was black, black from the bugs that covered it like a thick velvet blanket.

  According to Mas, all they had to do was start a decent fire. The flames and heat would wither the pests away. But getting close enough to set explosives was a problem.

  Tate lost the draw, and in lugging the four propane tanks close enough to the building to explode, he acquired over twenty bites from bugs that zapped out at him.

  They didn’t hurt as bad as the burns Jeb gave him when searing them from him.

  The explosion rocked Memphis and the flames and smoke that could be seen for miles.

  It burned throughout the night.

  Robi caught a hint of the amber glow as she stepped outside the mansion that evening in search of Jeb.

  Bishop and Manny were making a late dinner delight of Spam surprise and rice. Nick and Tate were engrossed in a game. Mas was working on something, while Greek and Doc played checkers.

  She carried baby Martha on her hip. The night air wasn’t cool; it was thick and carried a hint of a smoke smell.

  Heading down the front steps onto the driveway, Robi looked about. It was quiet, and the only voices were those coming from the house.

  After not seeing Jeb, she turned to go back in the house.

  Jeb’s singing voice carried from the distance. “Oh-oh, Say can you see. By the dawn’s early light.”

  Robi saw him walk up from around the house. “What’s so proudly we hail,” Robi squeaked out the words, “At the twilight’s last gleaming.”

  “Whose broad stripes and bright stars. Through the perilous fight.”

  “O’er the ramparts we watched …”

  Together they finished singing the National Anthem. There was a moment of silence and Robi looked at Jeb. “Why are we singing the National Anthem?”

  “You know what day it is,” Jeb said, “don’t you?”

  Robi whispered out, “Fourth of July.”

  “Independence. And we are watching …” he pointed outward to the fire that raged in the distance, “a fight for our independence.”

  “In a series of many,” Robi said.

  “That we will win.” Jeb winked. “Like this one. So … what brings you out here?”

  “We were … we were looking for you.”

  Jeb stepped closer. “Hey, she’s awake.”

  “How do you like that?”

  “And not crying.” He laid his hand on Martha’s cheek and she turned her face into his hand with a ‘coo’ and a smile.

  “Oh my God.” Robi smiled. “Look at that.”

  Martha held out her arm, squeezing her fingers toward Jeb as if asking him to hold her.

  “I think she wants you to hold her.”

  “Why?” Jeb asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Jeb tossed his M-16 around his shoulder and lifted the baby into his arms.

  Martha ‘cooed’ again with a delightful exhale.

  “Jeb, I think she likes you.”

  “I’m not natural at this.”

  “You’re doing fine,” Robi said. “She senses you care.”

  As if understanding Robi’s words, Martha nuzzled Jeb.

  “She’s like a puppy,” Jeb chuckled. “Thank you for this.”

  “We’re going to be eating soon. You coming in?”

  “Nah” He shook his head. “Can I bother you to bring me something out?”

  “Sure. Is everything OK?”

  Jeb exhaled. “Just worried. Just … keeping on my toes.”

  “The bugs.”

  “Yeah,” He nodded.


  “Understandable.”

  “I’m gonna keep the spotlights on and an eye open all night.”

  “Need company?” she asked.

  “I’d love company. But I need you to get some sleep.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll sleep in the truck. No biggie. Plus, I want to be up bright and early anyway. There is something me and Tate want to do.”

  “You said that before.” Robi reached for the baby. “Here, I’ll take her.”

  “Thanks.” Jeb slipped Martha into Robi’s grip.

  “I’ll let you get back to your watch,” Robi said. “I was just checking on you.”

  “Thank you for that. I mean it. Thank you.”

  Robi nodded and turned.

  “Wait,” Jeb called out.

  “What’s up?”

  Jeb took a step to her, leaned down and laid his lips on Martha’s head.

  “Did you just …. Did you just kiss the baby?”

  Jeb sniffed. “It’s that father thing coming out in me.”

  Robi laughed. “Good night, Jeb. Thanks for looking out for us. I ... I really feel safe knowing you’re on this.”

  Jeb gave a gentle smile and ran his hand down her arm as she turned to go back inside, and then returned to looking out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  July 5th

  It was an addiction. Like some people have an addiction to alcohol, or gambling, or drugs, Bishop was addicted to something else.

  Spam.

  It was an odd one, but one that started when he was much younger. And it was an addiction he believed he’d conquered before the age of twenty-four, after the doctor advised him to knock off the canned ham product because his cholesterol was through the roof, much too high for a guy so young.

  But Bishop loved it. He crowned himself the culinary King of Spam, creating new and exciting dishes constantly and inviting others over to try a dish he was especially proud of.

  He had the standards as he called them, Spam Barbeque, Green Eggs and Spam, Spam and Cheese. But he also ventured into international tastes with items such as Spam ala King, Sweet and Sour Spam, Spam Tacos, Spam Stroganoff and Spaghetti with Spam. Once in a while, when feeling extremely motivated, Bishop would even stage a Spam buffet featuring all his Spam delicacies.