"What are you talking about, the greenies can just keep blasting them with grenades," another man responded.

  "I’m standing on the East ramp with them, and they say that the grenades they had were brought by just a few guys," said the first man.

  Chapter Nine

  Sulla sat in the administrative office at the Butler County Airport. They had moved into the room a radio designed with an array of frequencies to talk with planes. Shortly after Sulla destroyed the bridge on Route 8, Captain Anderson contacted him on the radio over the emergency channel. Their conversation went something like the following.

  “This is Captain Anderson of the Pennsylvania National Guard; I need to talk to Paul Sulla.”

  “This is Sulla. Go.”

  “I have about two-hundred civilians I’m loading in a convoy and bringing to you,” Anderson said.

  “Cool, where are you coming from, and how many soldiers are you bringing?” Sulla said.

  “We are at the Butler VA armory. I only have about twenty soldiers, but more may filter in throughout the night. What’s your situation there?” Anderson said.

  “Dude, I need ammo. In addition, I have about three-hundred people, give or take, forting up here at the airport. About a hundred of them have guns, and we have formed an ad-hoc militia to hold the area. So how soon are you coming over, so I know when I’ll have to start cleaning the house for the totally awesome party we’re going to have?”

  “I will be loading trucks all night. We’ll convoy over in the morning with everything that can be carried for a pot-luck” Anderson said. “Oh, by the way, I hear your last party knocked the main bridge down to get to you. Is there anything else I should know about?”

  “Yeah, sorry about the bridge” Sulla said. “You’re kind of on the other side. But if it makes you feel better, I have another bridge. Speaking of which, you may want to close that door behind you on your way through."

  The conversation had gone on for several more minutes before both men got back to their own crisis.

  The night had brought no sleep to Sulla's eyes, and his hand rested on a cup of coffee that Dr. Carson's assistant, Kimberly, had brought him. I don’t even drink coffee he thought, but the warmth feels good in my hand.

  A number of people had disappeared during the night. Sulla didn’t think they were dead because their vehicles were missing. Everyone had family that they wanted to find. Sulla knew that if those people could find their loved ones, they would be back.

  Sulla's father and younger sister, Bianca, had made it to the airport fairly early on to help out. The two of them were currently watching a section of fence on the airport property.

  Knocking out the bridge had scattered the horde buying the community valuable time. Hundreds of zombies fell over the gap in the bridge to their end below, but most of them survived to roam the creek bed.

  Sulla waited all night for help to arrive from Pittsburgh, and then he heard the reports out of Oakland. Butler was small potatoes compared to the river city, and the big boys had other worries now.

  Sulla watched Kimberly serve coffee to the five other people sitting at the conference table. The people assembled had emerged as the ad-hoc leaders of the militia supporting Sulla. Dr. Carson sat at the opposite end of the table eyeing Kimberly.

  When Sulla picked them up in the helicopter, he noticed that Carson was wearing the girl on his arm like a watch. He didn’t pay much attention then, but now it stood out to Sulla as a direct contradiction to the wedding band on the good Doctor’s finger.

  “As we all know, things are bad,” Sulla said. “Other than Captain Anderson’s unit, I don’t think we can expect to see any help. To make matters worse we had a number of people slip out on their own to collect family. I think our first order of business today is to organize parties to round up local family members that are still outside the fence.”

  To Sulla’s right sat Eric Mullins, a Middlesex Township Police officer. He nodded in agreement with Sulla.

  “Eric, I’d like you to work with guys from our road department and any other police left to form up these parties. Let’s start with trying to find the families of mission critical people like the Doc here.”

  Kimberly’s head snapped around to look at Carson from the side of the conference table. She had been mid-pour of filling a cup of coffee, and she spilled some of it.

  “I appreciate the offer,” Carson said, “But my spouse was at the Mall when it got attacked. After seeing what happened at the Hospital, I’m under no illusions about her odds.”

  Kimberly put down a cup and walked out of the conference room. Her face felt flushed at the conversation behind her and her heart wanted to explode out of her chest. Down the hall, she pushed open the door to the women’s room and turned on the faucet. She bent over and filled her hands with water and splashed it on her face.

  What kind of person am I, she thought. I’ve wronged this woman, and now she is probably dead, and my first reaction is that I’m happy that he is all mine now. Kimberly remembered an Easter Sunday when she was a little girl. Her mother had dropped her off at Sunday school for the first time. She sat around a table eating vanilla wafers in her new white dress with blue trim. The teacher taught them about how it was wrong to take what was not yours. To illustrate the point, the teacher took Kimberly’s cookies away. It hurt Kimberly's feelings to single her out like that, but the teacher gave them back later.

  “I’m so sorry Alison,” she said to the mirror in front of her. “I’ve wronged you, and there is nothing I can do to make it up.”

  In her pocket, her cell phone vibrated for the first time since the outbreak started. She pulled the phone out and saw her mother’s number on the display.

  Kimberly’s parents had been having marital problems for as long as she could remember. Her father drove trucks for a living and one day he took a job out west driving a rig between military bases in the desert. The separation proved to be a good thing for the marriage and it stayed that way for several years. One day her mom announced to Kimberly that her father wanted them to move out west with him. At this point, she was grown up and had her own apartment in Butler, which Dr. Carson had been moonlighting at for a few months. She urged her mother to take the opportunity to patch things up with her father and make the move, but she would not be going along.

  “Kimberly, thank God,” her mother said on the phone. “Doug, I got through, pick up the other phone. We’ve been trying to reach you all night, are you alright?”

  “Mommy I need you.” Kimberly said.

  “Are you hurt baby?”

  “No, but it’s awful here,” Kimberly said.

  “Where are you at; are you safe?”

  “I’m at the County airport with other people,” Kimberly said.

  “Kim, honey,” her father said, “If there’s any pilots there I want you on the next plane out. I don’t care what it takes or where it’s going; you just get out and get as far away from there as possible. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes daddy,” Kimberly said.

  “I’m serious about this Kim, anything it takes.”

  “I’m so sorry, I love you both,” Kimberly said.

  “Baby you don’t need to be sorry; you just worry about taking care of-,” her mother said as the phone went dead.

  Kimberly realized the phone cut out, but finished her statement anyway. “I’m so sorry that I’m not the girl you tried to raise me to be.”

  She knew the guilt over Alison would eat at her, but she also knew she wouldn’t stop or leave him.

  In the meeting room, Sulla was on a conference call on the radio with Anderson and several state and military officials.

  “And where are you now Captain,” General Raul asked over the radio.

  “We are currently in route to Sulla’s position at the airport,” Anderson said. The transmission carried the unmistakable sound of gunfire in the background.

  “What we really need is an assessment of how to deal with these things,” the General asked.

  “Sir,” Anderson said, “Literally the only way to put them down is a bullet to the head. Shooting them anywhere else only slows them down a bit. They can’t exactly run, but they can manage better than a walk if they are intact. If you want any other pointers, Sulla is the guy to talk to from a response point of view.”

  Sulla and the people with him had joined the conversation late. Anderson had insisted that Sulla be included in the meeting, and it had taken several minutes to patch him through.

  “How about it Sulla,” the General asked.

  “Sir,” Anderson broke in. “Sulla needs to know about Intel’s projections that were discussed earlier.”

  “I agree,” said someone from the Governor’s office.

  “Fill him in, Captain,” the General said.

  “Basically,” Anderson said, “We have tracked a number of cases to other cities that have originated in Butler. The injured became sick, died and joined the undead. We managed to contain the situation in a couple of the cities but not all of them. We locked it down in Buffalo and D.C., but New York, and Chicago are in a state of flux. Some bean counters have run a number of rough computer models, and the results look bad. Best-case scenario, we are looking at hundreds of thousands to millions dead with in the week. I don’t think I need to spell out the worst case. Hold on a sec.”

  Three gunshots blasted over the radio.

  “Sulla, what can you tell us from your experience?” the general said.

  “We lost our first waves of emergency responders because we didn’t know what we were dealing with; some damn good people bought it. First, you need to make sure everyone knows how to kill them. Then you need to put a gun in every person’s hand that you can trust not to shoot you in the back. Make sure they have plenty of ammo; so far that has been a huge pain in the ass. Right now, I could be pushing into Butler, but I don’t have the ammo to hold my position and deal with the numbers of them in the city. You also need to start organizing people now. Get your responder’s families together, and make sure they are safe.”

  “Mr. Sulla, this is Chris Ricks from the Governor’s office. You don’t honestly think we should be passing out guns to civilians do you?”

  “Mr. Ricks if it weren’t for those civilians with guns I’d, be room temperature but still looking for my next meal.”

  This pencil pusher from Harrisburg just became an enemy, Sulla thought. Who cares, I have bigger issues to deal with.

  "I think I have what I need to advise the President," the General said. "The state of Pennsylvania has, of course, its own sovereign authority when it comes to its Guard units. Good luck to all of you."

  Sulla and Anderson switched back to the local emergency radio band. "Anderson, when you get here I think we need to talk," Sulla said.

  ###

  Jack stopped the van beside an old woman sitting on the hood of a 1950's vintage Chevy that was decades into the process of decay. A shotgun sat across her lap as she sang "Amazing Grace" to herself.

  The junk yard had been there Jack's entire life and housed thousands of old vehicles. Who ever had owned it had long ago stopped bringing in new wrecks to the property, and the yard had turned into a time capsule of a past age. Trees had grown up through many of the wrecks as life asserted its claim on their forgotten husks. The sun and time had burned away the once brightly colored paint leaving only faint glimpses of their former glory.

  Jack rolled down his window, "Ma’am, do you need some help?"

  "This was my Daddy's property, and I don’t plan on leaving’ it," she replied. "I do appreciate your concern though; of all the vehicles that have gone by since yesterday, you’re the first one to stop and check in on me. Come to think of it, no one has stopped to check in on me in months, but that’ll be over soon. My name is Ruth, Ruth Denton. Who would you be young man?"

  "Name’s, Jack. Ma’am, it’s not exactly safe to be sitting outside at the moment."

  "I may be old, but I’m not a damn fool. I’ve a television, and know all about it."

  Jack opened the door of the van and stepped out.

  "I didn’t mean to imply anything. I just wanted to make sure nothing happened to you."

  "Well of course something’s going to happen to me. Look at me; I’m older than these junkers. I don’t have time left to be running all over God's creation. My life’s been here and I’m going to die among these relics one way or another. I expect I’ll have company soon enough to see me out."

  "If that’s how you feel, why the shotgun?" Jack said.

  "I’ve been shooting vermin round this yard for better than 50 years, why should it be any different when they come? They’ll win out in the end, like time, and chew my bones, but I’ll line them up like these wrecks here until it’s my time."

  "Can we do anything for you before we go?" Jack said.

  "No, but since you’re the only live people I’m likely to talk to before the end I'll do you a kindness and send you off with a parting gift. Come on round this here car, I got a secret to show you."

  Ruth slid off the hood of the car and led him around the back of the vehicle. She pulled open the trunk to the sound of screechy hinges. She reached in and pulled out a wooden case of mason jars filled with liquid.

  "My Daddy set this place up to make shine during Prohibition. He taught me how to make it when I was a little girl. You young people be carful with this stuff, it’s got a lot more piss than what you kids drink these days. Come on, I'll walk with you back to your van and meet that pretty girl you got there."

  Ruth followed him back to the van limping a bit as she carried her shotgun in two hands. Donna slid over to the driver’s seat and leaned out the open window. Jack passed the case of Mason jars to Donna who put them on the floor inside.

  “My goodness,” Rush said, “You’re such a pretty thing to have all those bruises on your face. You better not tell me Jack here had anything to do with that.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Donna replied, “But I’d be in worse shape, if he hadn’t come along.”

  “Good, good,” Ruth replied, “Well what's your name then, darling?”

  “Donna.”

  “My name’s Ruth, and this here’s my place. Come here Jack, because I got something I want to tell the two of you. I was telling Jack that I ain’t going to leave this place, and I accept the fact that my end is at hand. That makes me a dying old woman with a bit of wisdom to impart.”

  Jack moved closer and watched while Ruth took Donna’s hand.

  “I’m eighty-seven years old and have seen many a change during my years. I don’t know if these are the End of Day’s like they talk about in The Good Book, but I can tell you this. It’s the end of days, as you know it. The generations before now were made of harder stuff. We knew things and how to do by ourselves with out having to call someone to fix stuff for us. There was real sacrifice and hardship. Many a strong man broke his body down to dust at a young age, just to put a little bit on the table. You younger folk ain’t ready to face those days again, and you don’t know the things we knew about the world. Even the rudimentary common stuff of my day, like making soap, smoking meat, or distilling is going to be something you’re going to have to figure out from a damn book. I've seen this evil getting ready to befall us for decades now. Not that I knew it would be like this, but that it would leave the younger people in the street like orphans after a war.”

  “There’s going to start being people out there looking out for themselves. They may want what you have and be willing to take it. Then there are going be just plain evil people that will inflict ill on the world for their own amusement. You have to be ready for it. Be ready to be your own law. Necessity is going to dictate a lot of things on you, and I pray you can bear it. You’re the only vehicle I’ve seen come down that road behind you since yesterday, so I assume whatever is behind you is something the two of you survived together. You may not be a couple, but you’re in a different world then the one you left behind down that road. You have a responsibility to each other now, an obligation and one that should not be lightly abandoned.”

  “In all my years, I never was married nor had kids of my own. I want to spend my last hours thinking of you two as my kids. Give me your hand now, Jack.”

  Ruth rested her shotgun on the side of the van and took Jack’s hand and placed it on top of her hand holding Donna’s.

  “Jack, you watch out for my little girl, Donna here. They have tried to take her, but I want you to try and find a safe place for her. Donna, you take care of my only son Jack. I can tell from his eyes that he’s suffered a great loss in his life. I saw that same look on my father’s eyes after he lost my mother. Make him happy as it may be in your power, and bring water to a weary soul. Now, I’m going say a prayer for the two of you. I want you to get, without a word, after I’m done. That road behind you, and in front of you, carries death with it. You best be gone, before it catches you.”

  “Dear, Lord, hear the final prayer of your daughter Ruth. I hear you calling me home. I pray for the courage to meet it here among this cemetery of the world behind us. I pray for blessings for my two children here. Their way is beset by the bones of our dying world. Help them break those bones. May they may find brighter lands in their future with green pastures and blue skies.”

  Naomi had jumped up into Donna’s lap and peered out the window with her blue eyes looking at Ruth.

  “I’ve never seen more beautiful eyes in my whole life,” Ruth said. “I’m going to go sit on the hood of my car and think about those eyes till it’s my time. Shouldn’t be long.”

  Ruth offered her hand to the cat. Naomi smelled her hand and gave it a small lick and blinked at the old lady. “You keep watching over him like she wanted,” Ruth said. Without another word she turned around and walked off.

  “Jack, are you all right?” Donna asked.

  “Yeah, I just want to get out of here if it’s all right with you,” Jack said.

  “I’m ready to go, look behind us,” she said.