The road ahead of them was blocked. Cars were jammed together abandoned, a gridlock nightmare. Graham's eyes squinted in the sunlight; they took the car on the edge into the dirt and drove around as they entered Albuquerque city limits. The sky was cloudy and smoke rose in the distance.
"We can drive back to the 6, then take that to the 40, then switch back to the 85 in downtown Albuquerque." Milo looked at a map on Graham's smartphone, which they had been charging in the car.
"That'll take too long." Graham didn't like this, not one bit, and the feeling of dread seemed to fester and grow as they approached the city. No military presence whatsoever. It was odd considering there were so many of them back in their hometown.
Graham kept to the side roads, avoiding the city center. Houses were emptied and shadowy figures drifted in the smoky streets.
"You think anyone is alive out there?" Milo pressed his face to the glass and saw some figures limping out of the houses – infected. One was a little girl in her pajamas, following the sound of the car.
"Probably, hiding," Graham slowed at an intersection where an ambulance had crashed into a minivan. A thought crossed his mind, medical supplies, but he didn't want to stop the car. Fear got the better of him and he drove around it. For the meantime, he could avoid any horror. "Keep the handgun up here, I want you to hold it at all times."
"Okay, yeah," Milo bent into the back seat and reached into the duffle grabbing a handgun. Graham watched the boy turn the safety on then returned his eyes to the road.
A car sped by, a sports car with some people in it. Graham's eyes widened, he looked at the direction they were coming from. The horde of undead bodies was massive. Graham turned the wheel and sped, following the sports car. Adrenaline overtook him as he sped down the street out of the suburbs and deeper into the city.
"Wait, we need to go that way!" Milo shouted but Graham couldn't hear him. Graham was intent to escape. The red car swerved around a corner and an older man carrying a young boy ran out in the street waving his hand. Graham hit the break but served around the man.
"Stop! They need help!" Milo shouted.
Graham's daughter and wife flashed in front of his eyes. Her little hands reaching out to him. Graham slowed down the car outside a gas station and put it in park. He quickly reached into the duffle bag and pulled out another handgun. "Stay," Graham looked at Milo then jumped out of the car.
"Hello!" Graham shouted. A trashcan near the gas station fell over and a man in a hospital gown groaned stumbling over to the car. "Do you need help?" Graham eyed the infected stumbling closer. He turned and aimed then fired. He hit the infected in the neck, one more shot and the infected dropped to the ground brains splattering on the asphalt.
"Graham!" Milo shouted from the car. Graham turned to see the older man pointing a gun towards the passenger seat of the car.
"Hey, hey!" Graham growled and aimed his handgun at the guy. Milo and the man were in a standoff, both aiming guns at each other.
"I need your car." The man whimpered his hand shaking, "my boy – my boy has been bit and I need to take him to the hospital."
Graham's face softened, he knew what that meant. One bite was all it took. Graham didn't know where the little boy was now. "You know, that won't work." Graham held his gun out.
"I need to try. So please, give me your car." The man's face was desperate and Graham recognized that look when he looked at himself in the mirror.
"I can't do that." Graham shook his head. He knew this car was his protection, his security against the world. He also knew, this was how he was going to get to Santa Fe.
"Graham, it's just a car." Milo pleaded.
"Milo!" Graham took a step closer to the man. "Sir, back away."
"Please," The man gulped still shaking; Graham didn't think he had it in him to shoot a boy. "Please, he is all I have left."
"Don't shoot my dad!" A younger voice pleaded from a few feet away.
"Tyler!" The man lowered his gun and ran to a sickly looking boy hiding behind a car. He grabbed the boy lifting him up. "Tyler, I told...." The man looked back at Graham who still held his gun out at the two.
"Graham, stop!" Milo jumped out of the car. "We can take them to a hospital. We can. Lower the gun."
Graham scowled at Milo then lowered his gun. Taking a long breath he looked at the two. "Where are you going?"
"The hospital." The man suggested squeezing his boy tight. His boy coughed into his arm and looked at Graham.
"That's where he came from." Graham pointed to the dead zombie in a hospital gown a tag still on his wrist
"The police station." The man suggested cradling his boy and hurrying to the side of the car.
"That's not safe." Graham walked back to the car. He watched the man try the locked back door. Graham tapped on the window, pointing to the duffle bag. Milo jumped in the passenger seat.
"They're not the army." Milo spat out as he grabbed the bag tucking it in between his feet.
"Then where are we supposed to go? Can you take us to another city." The man suggested.
"We came from another city." Graham pressed the unlock button and the man quickly jumped in the car pushing Wilco aside. Trevor coughed again.
"Maybe a fire station?" Milo suggested.
"Yes! Please. There is one a few miles away." The man shut the door and eyed as Graham got in and shut his door.
"Direct the way." Graham said and they drove a few blocks. It was a tense and quiet drive. They pulled to a stop in front of a dark fire station. The tan brick building looked empty on the outside but they didn't come here for nothing. Everyone, minus Wilco, hopped out of the car.
The street was empty but there were few infected wandering towards them. Graham and Milo looked at each other. Milo aimed his gun at a woman in jeans and what used to be a white blouse now black with dried blood.
"You got it?" Graham asked looking at Milo's shaking hand. Milo frowned and Graham knew he wasn't ready. He fired the gun taking the woman down. He couldn't think of them as people, not any more.
But the infected faces sure looked human, and their clothes told a story he wasn't ready to swallow. Graham fired at a man in flannel; he had the same shirt at home. Then a teenager about Milo's age walked towards him, arms stretched out as he approached.
"Graham," Milo whispered. Graham looked at Milo, it just hit him, he was panting heavy the effect of shooting other humans having a physical effect he couldn't manage.
"I got it." Graham refocused, "they're not alive, they're not alive," he whispered to himself. Bang. The teenager dropped with sinew splattering onto the pavement.
The three turned back to the fire station and knocked on the door. It was locked.
"Hello!" The man shouted up at a window. "Hello! Please, someone! My boy, he needs help. He needs help! Is anyone there?
A window opened above and a woman peeked out. "What happened?" Her voice was honeyed and soft, Graham felt assured.
"Please, my boy was hurt, I need some supplies and.... just a place to rest for a little bit." Trevor coughed in his arms and left little red specks on the man's shirt.
"Are you bit?" The woman asked.
Graham and Milo eyed the man.
"No, just tired." The man pleaded. The door opened and burly men holding axes answered. They were dressed in grey sweats and a standard issue tight fitting fireman t-shirts.
"We need to inspect you four." The woman came running out from a back door. "Strip."
"No, please just." The man looked desperately from the two men back to the woman. "We can, but can you please let me just put him down in a room somewhere."
"Gina," One of the men said.
"Karl, it's okay. There are some cots set up over in the kitchen. Let your boy rest and come right back here." The frizzy haired woman ordered and the man took Trevor away.
There were only three of them from the original crew barricaded in the fire station; it was quiet and every noise echoed. The man came back from a side room and looked grateful. "My name is Ken," he started and looked at the group. "I'm not stupid, I know my son is going to die. He is bit."
"He's bit!" Karl shouted. "The fuck! Gina I knew we shouldn't."
"Karl," Gina put her hand up. "You need to leave."
"I just, I want him to feel safe and sleep.... when he die's I will let him go but I can't... I can't kill him now. Please, you must have kids." Ken pleaded his eyes darting from face to face looking for any sort of sympathy from the group.
"None of us do. I'm sorry buddy but we took a risk letting you in here. Our team got slaughtered from those things." Karl was gruff but it all came from a place of fear. Graham knew that look and that quaver in his voice.
"Guys," Graham started. "I'll finish him once he passes. I promise. Then, we can be on our way."
"He is sick, it won't take long." Ken added and nodded as he turned back to the room.
"We still need to check them for bites." The third male firefighter reminded the group. Gina looked at him and shook her head, it could wait, she held out her hand to Milo. Milo just stared at it. Gina dropped her hand.
"Come on kid, we have some food. You two finish it." Gina's tone was serious and she along with the others walked away leaving Ken and Graham in the large empty garage.
"I'm sorry man," Graham thought of his own daughter Ashley and how she had been taken away too quickly to allow for grieving. She didn't have this calm and peace, but pain and fear. His eyes became moist at the thought of her but he continued to walk towards the side room.
It ended up being a small office, papers were strewed about and a bright red phone sat on the desk. A photo of a woman and man, neither of which were in the station, sat on a filing cabinet next to a dying fern. On a cot was Trevor breathing heavily and white as a sheet.
"Trevor," Ken said and got on the cot cradling his son in his arms. "Trevor, can you open your eyes? Stay with me. Please, stay with me. The boy just kept breathing heavily but was clearly unconsciousness.
"He probably won't wake up at this stage." Graham whispered and looked at the boy. He knew the stages; he's researched it a few weeks ago when everything was at its boiling point. The news started speaking about it, social media was flooded.
"I know, I'm a doctor...was a doctor." Ken squeezed his boy tight. "I know what happens." He cried into his son and Graham stood in the corner gulping back his emotions. "Trevor, if you can hear me, find mommy. It is easier there." Ken held his son for what felt like 30 more minutes, and then the wheezing stopped.
Graham wanted to feel more, he wanted to cry about Ashley and Camille but they were dead. In a way, this new world had come around so fast but Graham had always been ready for it. The monotony of his life, his familial duties, and everything else seemed so far away. It had only been a day or two, but there was no time to remember that. He'd wake up go to work then stop at the gym; by the time he came home he was exhausted – he should have spent more time with his wife and daughter. Graham eyed Ken, Trevor had stopped breathing now but Ken's face streamed with tears and he lowered his son to the cot.
"I should do it." Ken dried his eyes and took a deep breath. Graham looked at the boy. "The hospital handed out card, it can take anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 days to change."
Graham held the handgun out for Ken. "Do you know how to use it?"
"No, I've never shot a gun before." Ken's eyes were wet. Ken looked like a lost dog, abandoned, hungry and meek.
"Well, here is the trigger, there is going to be a kickback so hold it out. I like to use the tip of my index figure when pulling back the trigger." Graham explained and handed Ken the gun. Ken nodded and turned to the boy on the cot.
"Should we take him outside?" Ken asked as he put the gun against his dead son's forehead. "So as not to messy any of this up." He was so polite, even now during the death of his son.
"We could, but we'd probably end up attracting more of them with the noise." Graham looked at the boy, who could have been sleeping, he didn't look in pain anymore.
"Why the fuck is this happening?" Ken shouted turning away and stepping back. "Why? We have come back from so many diseased, the plague, mad cow, bird flu, polio, rabies, even HIV was getting under control. This little virus, it's not fair! This was my son, he wanted to be a doctor – like daddy." Ken continued crying.
"Listen man, I'll do it just give me the gun." Graham held out his hand but Ken quickly pointed the gun at him. Graham backed up putting his hands up. "You don't want to do that."
"I just, I can't." Ken lowered the weapon and dropped back to his son's side. "I love him."
While Ken was facing away Graham grabbed him, putting the man in a chock hold and twisting the gun out of his hand. Graham was much stronger than Ken. Throwing the man on the ground Ken scrambled against the filing cabinet knocking the framed photo off of it. The frame shattered on the ground and Ken shot up.
"Don't!" Graham kept the gun pointed at Ken. "Don't move."
"I'm sorry." Ken once again was that poor dog, but Graham knew he had a bite to him. "I'm sorry."
"Go outside." Graham kept his sight on the man as he walked towards the door. The man looked back at the boy on the cot and whispered bye before opening the office door and stepping out. Quickly Graham locked it and let out a sigh of relief. He was sweating and the adrenaline in his system only made him more alert.
Graham pointed the gun at the boy's head. He closed his eyes. He wondered if this is what it would feel like to point a gun at Ashley, her thin black hair sliding off her forehead. He pictured her in a yellow dress, the one she wore last Easter and cried about because she always loved her jeans and sweatshirts more. Camille always forced her into these froufrou outfits. Graham pulled the trigger.
Opening his eyes, he had tears running down his cheeks too. He dried his eyes and stepped back looking at the mess. Blood and brain matter were splattered across the office and a puddle started seeping out from beneath the clock. Graham turned around and threw up in a trashcan feeling overwhelmed. The door handle shook and banging came from the other side.
Graham opened the door and pushed Ken back then shut it behind him. The firefighters and Milo had gathered outside the small office. "It's done." Graham said and walked by them.
It seemed like hours had passed and he sat at the small circular table. Everyone was quiet and kept to themselves. Gina placed a small bowl of chili in front of Graham.
"You were brave today." She commented and sat across from him. "Milo told us you guys are heading to Santa Fe." Gina wanted to talk, but Graham wasn't ready. "Things are getting worse not better. The National Guard hasn't come. Communications are lost. People are dying...then coming back." Gina leaned back in her chair. "We lost a bunch of our people in that hotel, trying to save lives and put out a fire. The whole goddamn city just crumbling, what's really fucked up was it used to be louder. Everything was loud and now.... A few screams, but it's quiet. It's like the world is settling into a new normal."
Graham let out a small "hah" and seemed to blink out of his trance. "A new normal." He repeated. Those three words resonated with him. Was this his new normal? He thought. "We need to keep going." Graham sat up and reached for the bowl of chili, it was warm. Shoveling the beans and meat into his mouth he continued. "I need to get Milo to his aunt."
"What if Santa Fe is worse?" Gina asked. "Regardless whether you like it or not you are responsible for that boy now. At least, he thinks you are." Graham felt a weight on him and he knew Gina's words to be true. Gina continued, "and what happened to Ken's boy, that can happen to you."
"What do you want to get out of this talk?" Graham had finished the bowl not realizing how hungry he was.
"Just," Gina looked Graham up and down like he was a crazy person. Graham knew where she was going and he stood up. "Just take care of him."
"Until Santa Fe." Graham walked out of the small cafeteria area and up the staircase to the rooms. There were four rooms with four beds each, military style. Milo and he were sharing one of the rooms with Ken, opening the door Graham looked at Milo still awake.
"Graham," Milo whispered and scooted over in his bed. "Come here."
Graham obliged and sat next to the teenager. "Yeah?"
"I miss my parents and my brother." Milo's voice cracked. "I just... I know I need to be tough and I know I am an asshole..." Milo went quiet and turned away pulling the sheets over his head. Graham could hear little sniffles coming from beneath the fabric.
"Just sleep. It will be better in the morning." Graham looked over to Ken's bunk bed. He didn't think Ken was sleeping. Graham clicked on the safety and crawled to the top bunk. He'd have to keep an eye on the man. They were probably both as unstable, but at least now – Ken had nothing to lose.