Tracking Blood: Episode 22

An apocalyptic serial

Table of Contents

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Ryan and his mother had tried all night to sneak out of their quarters. At every turn someone was in the way, either on patrol or just passing by. After having to fake a bathroom trip for the second time, they’d called it off and wait for the next day.

Doing so had forced them to attend the group’s first gathering. In a way, Ryan was glad he had, because it made him realize how right his mom had been about Max. The gathering had started off as a simple meeting to talk about what they would do over the next few days, as well as the foreseeable future, but from there, it got darker. Led by Max, standing in front of his newly made throne, it grew in intensity. Max fed on the energy the crowd fed him. It didn’t take long for his speech to become peppered by shouts and chants from the crowd, and in Max’s eyes, Ryan could see that he liked it.

Max on his own was probably alright. But Max with a little power- that was scary.

The weirdest part was when he told them were going to smile more. It sounded harmless at first, like he was trying to lift their spirits, but the more he kept going on about it, the more it sounded weirdly cult-like. “Wear a smile,” he shouted, “let that be your shield against the horrors. And if you can’t manage a smile, paint it on!”

When the cheers and handshakes had subsided, Ryan was surprised to see Max heading right for him and his mom.

“How did you like it?” Max asked with a grin.

“Very inspiring,” his mom lied.

“Good. I’m happy to hear that. It’s the first of many. By the way, I have something for you.” Max called to someone off to the side. They rushed over and handed him a gun. Ryan was taken aback, until he realized it was Donegan’s revolver. “I want you to have it back,” he said. “As a sign of faith.”

Ryan’s mom took it and stuffed it in her waistband. “What about the shotgun?”

“That one we need. But don’t worry, there’ll be more. A lot more.”

“Isn’t there a whole armory full of guns?”

“The asshole National Guard took everything when they left,” Max said, and Ryan’s mom nodded.

“Well, thank you for returning it.”

“Don’t mention it. And don’t forget to smile,” he said as he walked off grinning.

“I won’t,” his mom replied, returning the look. When Max was gone, she looked at Ryan and rolled her eyes.

Eventually they went back to their quarters and settled in for a second night. When the lights went out again, they laid down in their makeshift beds and pretended to sleep. But after an hour of not hearing anything, they got their things together and snuck out.

This time, they reached the door. Using the key Ryan had lifted, they unlocked the padlock and, quietly as they could, pulled the chain off the door.

With a glance back for good measure, seeing no witnesses, they disappeared out the door.

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With no exterior lights on and no lights nearby, the outside of the Armory was dipped in inky darkness. It was creepy, especially with all the dead bodies strewn about, but it made sneaking away from the group that much easier. Not only that, but there were still the infected to worry about, and the less they could see, the less that could see them.

Ryan and his mother crossed the Armory’s lawn, the tour bus still parked off to the far right. They passed the full-sized Army helicopter the Armory had on display. It bore a red cross painted on its side and sat on a concrete platform.

“That’s not very nice,” someone called out. Ryan spun to see CiCi stepping out from behind the helicopter. She had her machine gun at her side, plus two other people with her, including Henry. Both men held crowbars. “Max showed you a lot of hospitality, and here you are pissing all over it.”

Ryan snorted.

“Is something funny?”

“No. No, I know we shouldn’t have done that.”

CiCi frowned. “Lucky for you, Max is a nice guy. He’s giving you a choice. The first- and the one I suggest you take- is to give us back the food and the key you stole, go with us inside, and become a genuine part of the group we’re building.”

Ryan’s mom stepped forward. “The other?”

“Let’s just say our lawn will get two new decorations.”

To Ryan’s surprise, his mom pulled the revolver from her waistband. “I bet there’s a third option,” she said.

CiCi laughed and said, “Bitch, either you’re bad at bluffing, or you’re too dumb to check if a gun is loaded when someone hands it to you.”

Her face dropped at the realization that she was carrying an empty gun. She looked over at Ryan. “It’s okay,” she said, “she won’t shoot us. It would make too much noise.”

“She might,” he shrugged, then stopped. “Wait, you’re not thinking about …”

She nodded.

“But if they catch us.”

His mom leaned in and said, “Now.”

Ryan broke into a run, pounding the grass as fast as his feet would take him, with his mother right behind him every step of the way.

He tensed, waiting for the spray of gunshots, but none came. That didn’t mean they were in the clear, however. CiCi and the others chased after them as they weaved through the barricades and crossed the street.

No doubt, the group was surprised by the speed at which their prey were moving. Judging by how quickly they fell behind, none of them were a thirteen-year-old boy in prime physical shape, nor were they a woman who started every morning by running three miles, rain or shine.

Running west on Capital Street, they reached an area that had been affected by the bombings. Fire marred the street, the surrounding buildings reduced to piles of ash and rock. The three following them had fallen back quite a bit, still around the corner, but it wouldn’t stay that way forever. It wasn’t like they could run the entire two miles to the Botanic Garden.

Especially with the infected up ahead. A handful of them were in the street, coming out of wherever they’d been hiding to see what the shouting was about.

“Over there,” Ryan said, pointing to the remnants of a high school. Fire had badly damaged it, a yellow bus jutting up from a hole in the street out front. A tattered flag flew on its lawn.

“We can find something better,” his mom said.

He knew what she was thinking. She didn’t want to see the bodies that might be inside, especially if they were Ryan’s age.

“We don’t have time to keep looking,” he warned, glancing back. She said nothing, but she agreed.

Running through the gaping hole that used to be the front entrance, they climbed a long set of stairs and made their way into what was left of the high school. Ahead was an auditorium that had completely caved in, leaving nothing but piles of rubble and seats in a layer of insulation and dust.

Going around, they navigated loose wires as they made their way further into twisted hallways choked with broken metal and wood. Sections of the ceiling had fallen down. Pools of blood stained the brick floor, but no bodies were to be seen. Whether or not that was a good thing, Ryan didn’t know.

As they made their way to the classrooms, they heard the footsteps and heavy breathing of CiCi, Henry and the other guy following them into the school. The area Ryan and his mother came to had been badly hit by fire. Luckily, much of the building’s brick structure had held up, but everything from the floor to the walls was ashen and hollow as a cold fireplace.

“C’mon, Ryan,” Henry called out from somewhere far behind them. “You can still be a part of the group, you and your mom. Why don’t you come back so we can talk?”

An answer came, not from Ryan, but from the infected that had followed them in. Dry-throated screams echoed through the demolished hallways.

Ryan’s mother hurried him silently into one classroom. There was no door to close, since it had burnt down right out of its frame. Ash was piled high in the center of the room. Here and there, the metal legs of school desks poked up. At the far side of the room, a partial ceiling collapse had turned the corner into a tangle of wood and pipes.

“Cover yourself,” his mom said, plunging her hands into the ash and throwing it on herself. He understood immediately what she was doing. He did the same, both of them rubbing the ash on their arms and legs and coating their faces in smoky soot. On his fifth or sixth time clawing up two fistfuls of ash, Ryan found something solid in his hand. He looked into his open hand at the shiny object sticking up from the ash.

It was a wedding ring.

Ryan took a step back. Some of the ashes, the same he had all over him, on his face, filling his nose, weren’t from the room burning- they were from the people who had died in it. He wanted to throw up. To scream. To cry. But he couldn’t do any of it. Not now. Not as the panicked breathing and the slap of hurried footsteps grew closer.

“Hide,” his mom mouthed silently. They crept to the other side of the room, hunched down, and crawled into the collapse. If they were going to survive the next few minutes, they had to become part of the destruction- just two more dead pieces in a tangle of dead pieces.

BRAP. BRAP-BRAP. Gunfire filled the hallway. Henry cried out in pain, cut off by the dull sounds of a crowbar striking something soft. More gunfire. More screams. Ryan huddled, determined not to choke and cough on the ash that covered his face. His mother pressed herself on top of him, pushing him down into the debris and shielding him as much as she could.

Someone entered the room. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut to keep the whites of his eyeballs from giving them away. From the way the person walked and breathed, he knew it was CiCi. She sounded desperate. The two men with her were dead, probably being fed on at that very moment. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but make a stand.

A screech came from the door. Ryan afforded himself a peek, seeing at least five of the creatures in the doorway. It had been a day or so since he’d seen one. How quickly he’d forgotten how disgusting they were. How uncomfortable their eyes made him.

“Come get it, freaks,” CiCi challenged them. Happily accepting, they charged at her.

She opened fire, the sound deafening in such a small space. Ryan felt it in his throat.

The first infected dropped to the floor. Then the second, halfway across the room. She hit the third but only injured it. It fell on her, the machine gun firing wildly as she slammed up against the wall.

The rest of the group fell on her. Teeth went to her eyes, her shoulder, her legs. She didn’t scream or make a sound, but for a moment, she made eye contact with Ryan. A wave of panic overtook him as he thought she might give them away. More infected rushed into the room, splashed with the blood of CiCi’s fallen backup.

They tore her apart in seconds. Just before Ryan closed his eyes, he recognized one of the infected shoving through the crowd.

It was the tall guy, the one Max had kicked off the court for fighting.

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It didn’t take long for the infected to finish CiCi. When there wasn’t much left of her, they started stumbling around the room, looking for more prey.

The tall one from Max’s group came the closest to finding them, but luckily a sound drew him away and they all scrambled out of the room to find it. It had sounded like a section of the auditorium ceiling collapsing, which was no surprise considering the condition it was in.

On the one hand, Tanya didn’t care what the noise was, so long as it got those monsters out of there. On the other, she didn’t want to be there when the rest of the building came down.

After the infected moved on, Tanya and Ryan waited a long time in the rubble. They sat there, surrounded by the smell of death, and they didn’t move until they hadn’t heard a sound in a while. Then they pulled themselves out of the destruction, dusted themselves off, and got the hell out of there.

They stayed off the main roads, cutting through neighborhoods and backyards and parking lots. Occasional screams drifted through the buildings, but they continued.

After half an hour of tortuously slow travel, they came across a house with an open front door. A Prius was parked out front, and Tanya decided to search inside for the keys. She’d never moved so fast as she did checking that front hallway. On the wall next to the coat rack, she found a key organizer with what she was looking for.

The Prius ran quietly, as she’d hoped. Half an hour later, they reached the Botanic Garden.

As Tanya looked up at the beautiful glass dome of the Conservatory, she remembered back to their wedding. She had had her heart set on being married at the Garden since she was a little girl, so it went without saying that she was heartbroken when she learned they didn’t allow weddings on the premises.

But Will did something unexpected and surprised her with a secret wedding. Her friend Lewis got himself ordained. They visited the garden like usual, with a few friends and family in tow, then they found a quiet corner by the orchids and had a quick ceremony. They were nervous and excited, and no one discovered what they were doing until the very end. She and Will kissed, and then they all ran out of there and went to a bar to celebrate.

It was so out of character for Will, who was normally a stickler for every rule and law in every book. His willing to do that for her, to go against every arrow-straight bone in his body, meant more to her than any ring in the world.

She wiped the wetness from her eyes. A tiny amount of doubt had formed in the pit of her gut, a cold ball of uncertainty. It nagged at her, whispering whenever it was quiet, telling her it was insane to believe Will was not only alive but going to find them there. But she pretended to be brave for Ryan, because sometimes being a mother meant concealing the fear so it wouldn’t be transferred, like covering a cough to prevent spreading a cold.

They entered the Botanic Garden, ready for whatever they would find inside. They were prepared to hide as long as they needed to.

As long as it took for Will to come home.

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