Primitive. Part 7

The three of us met in the middle of the road, like dogs sniffing each other cautiously. Wesley exited his vehicle cradling a mean-looking military a.s.sault rifle, which I later found to be an M16. He held it muzzle pointed skyward as we introduced each other.

Wesley Smitts was a career military man. An Army Colonel, he was stationed out of Fort Bragg in North Carolina and was in California to a.s.sist in some military training at the Marine Base in Camp Pendleton. He'd actually been in the Malibu area when the epidemic-or whatever the h.e.l.l it was-began reverting people to their primitive state. He was heading towards Edwards Air Force base when our paths crossed.

"Why Edwards?" Martin asked. I could tell Martin was playing dumb, since that was the direction we were heading.

"There might be people there," Wesley explained. He looked to be around my age, with brown hair and a stocky build. "And if there aren't, there should be plenty of weapons available for the taking."

"And if there are people?" Martin asked.

"I don't know," Wesley said. He looked back at the field where the dead primitives lay. "I mean...part of me feels that if there's any order left in this world it'll be found at some military installation." He regarded us calmly and there was something in his look, in the subtle s.h.i.+ft in his eyes that told me he knew more than he was letting on. I didn't get a bad feeling from him. It wasn't that, just that he might know about what happened but wasn't prepared to talk about it yet.

Two can play at that game.

I pretended I didn't notice that subtle s.h.i.+ft in his eyes. "Part of me feels that way, too," I said. "Which way is Edwards Air Force base?"

Wesley motioned east. "Five miles that way."

"And if there aren't any people left?" Martin asked.

Wesley shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I figure if there aren't, I can grab some weapons, head into Northern Nevada or something. Get the h.e.l.l away from major metropolitan areas."

"That's what we're aiming to do," Martin said.

Wesley looked toward the SUV. "How many of you are there?"

I told him and he nodded. Again, I felt no threat from him, although that old part of me raised its ugly head and began talking to me. Don't trust him! I ignored it.

"Would you mind if we tagged along with you to Edwards?" Martin asked.

"Of course not," Wesley said, and that made me feel better.

We led him back to the SUV and everybody got back out. Introductions were made, and when Tracy was introduced to him she was polite but I could tell she was cautious. I introduced Wesley to Emily, our daughter, and he smiled. "I have a little boy named Billy that's about your age back in North Carolina," he said. Then, as if realizing he'd just stumbled over an emotional trip mine, his face suddenly went red. He turned away quickly. "s.h.i.+t." He looked at me, his eyes turning red. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

"It's okay," I said.

It was awkward being around Wesley Smitts as he fought to control his emotions. And I suppose this sounds pretty s.h.i.+tty, but I was glad he lost it. If he hadn't displayed that deep sense of grief, if he hadn't almost started bawling right there in front of complete strangers over the probable loss of his son and whatever family he might have had I would have felt uneasy about him. Any man who can display that kind of affection was the kind of person I wanted on our side. It meant he had feelings, that he had somebody he loved who he missed greatly and was grieving for them. And if he could grieve, then he could empathize with others. He might find a way to empathize with us.

Wesley got himself together and turned back to us. "My apologies. It's been...a tough forty-eight hours."

"I know," Tracy murmured.

"You're the first people I've come across that weren't like that back there," he jerked a thumb back at the primitives we'd just killed. He quickly explained that he'd been attending a military conference at a hotel in Malibu when the world changed so suddenly. He was outside in the parking lot, at his jeep, when it happened and he'd gotten the h.e.l.l out. He'd made it back to the local armory where things weren't much better. "I was able to get in and grab this," he said, holding up the rifle. "I got a handful of ammo and took off. It was...madness!"

I told the group that Wesley was planning to check out Edwards Air Force Base. Lori looked doubtful. "You really think anybody will still be there?"

"If there is, ma'am, I have the credentials to get in," he said.

We talked about strategy. Wesley agreed to lead the way in his jeep and if the area were still in lock-down as it probably was when the s.h.i.+t started hitting the fan, he would attempt to gain entry. If he were successful, he would verify our ident.i.ties and non-primitive status. "It's possible they'll be hostile to you," he explained. "They might even order you off the perimeter. If that happens we should meet back here and I'll come back in two hours. Hopefully with more weapons and information."

"And if you aren't back in two hours?" I asked.

"Then you need to a.s.sume the worst."

"Maybe we should just forget Edwards," Tracy said. She looked nervous. "I mean, if there's anybody left that's not affected...do you really think they're going to still follow whatever orders they may have received? Suppose law and order has broken down in there?"

"She's right," James added. He was wearing one of my T-s.h.i.+rts, a crew s.h.i.+rt from one of the films I'd worked on. "The kind of social disorder we've just experienced could have altered things forever. It could be total anarchy in there."

I silently agreed. I've read enough apocalyptic fiction-have even written a smidgeon of it-to know enough about basic human nature. And in this type of scenario, with a total breakdown of order and law and the codes of civilization that bring us together and keep us from being the animals we really are, it's easy to imagine order reverting to chaos.

"We won't know until that's verified," Wesley said.

Martin and I glanced at each other. We'd become the unofficial leaders of our little clan and we quietly acknowledged that Wesley was right. Despite my private misgivings, we had to check it out. We had to have hope. "Let's do it," I said.

Tracy protested as we piled back into our respective vehicles. Wesley made a U-turn, headed north, and I followed. "This is insane," she said. "We have more than enough supplies to last us until we get to our cabin and we can get more at the local sport shop in town."

"You have a cabin?" Heather asked.

"Yes," I said. The cat's out of the bag now. To Tracy, I said, "I'm not going to put us in any danger. First sign of anything f.u.c.ked up, I'm hanging back."

Martin had retained control of the Ruger when he got into the back seat. Okay by me. I felt better now with him in control of it.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Emily asked.

"Don't worry, honey," Tracy said. Emily was on her lap, cradled against her.

I hoped we were doing the right thing.

Wesley led us about a mile up the road, then made a right down a secondary road. I followed. As we drove along, the terrain became more barren and desolate. I could see hills in the distance. I knew that Edwards Air Force base was very close, that the U. S. government had claimed a large part of this land in California for their use and that they'd been rather strict in enforcing a No Trespa.s.sing law. I also figured that if the majority of military personnel had turned primitive during the past two days, they might still be in the area. Did I really want to drive right into an area where there might be a ma.s.s of primitives?

I slowed to a stop, the realization hitting me, fear suddenly taking over. As I brought the SUV to a stop, Wesley slowed down and stopped too. "What's wrong?" Tracy asked.

I couldn't explain it. I didn't know how to. All I felt was this enormous sense of dread. It was like a sixth sense. It felt...almost spiritual...that I could feel some kind of unknown force ahead of us gathering strength. It felt like this force was malevolent and dark. It was akin to the feeling I'd had last week, only subtler, when I saw that weird drawing on the wall in Hollywood and that caveman-like homeless person.

"You okay, David?" Martin asked from the backseat. He was leaning forward.

"Something's weird," James said. His tone of voice told me he felt it, too.

"No s.h.i.+t!" Lori said.

My feelings were confirmed. Everybody else was feeling it, too.

Emily whimpered in Tracy's lap. "I want to go home!"

Tracy comforted her and I read the fear in her eyes. She felt it, too.

Wesley backed his jeep up. He opened the driver's side door and looked back at us. "Everything okay?"

I leaned out the window. "Change of plans," I called out. "We'll wait back at the main highway for you."

For a moment there was no response. Then he called out, "Okay. It's almost two o'clock now. I'll meet you back at the intersection by four. If I'm not back by then, a.s.sume the worst."

"Roger!"

Wesley closed the driver's side door and headed down the road while I made a U-turn and headed back.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" Martin asked. I think we all knew what he was talking about. I could see his face in the rearview mirror. He'd gotten that same vibe we all did.

"I don't know," I answered.

"What are you talking about?" Heather asked. "What's got you all so freaked out?"

"You don't feel it?" James asked her.

"No!"

I tried to catch a glimpse of Heather in the rearview mirror. She looked truly confused and irritated. That feeling of dread, that the rest of us felt, that indescribable feeling there was something out there, was totally lost on her.

"This is the wisest choice," I said. "Chances are if there's any military personnel left in that facility we wouldn't get past the checkpoint anyway. We're better off waiting out here."

"We have enough weapons to defend ourselves against any primitives," Martin said. "They're not exactly stealthy."

Little did I know that those words would come back to haunt us an hour later.

We made it back to the intersection and pulled over at the side of the road. The heat of the sun beat heavily on us and we got out of the vehicle. Tracy spread blankets and towels over the dirt on the side of the road and we sat down in a rough semi-circle to await Wesley's return. We spent the next hour talking while Lori, Tracy and I took turns playing with Emily. I was struck by how in the midst of all that chaos we'd still managed to throw in together like a well-oiled machine. Only Heather had seemed to hold back a bit on her background from our talk last night and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Now as we made chitchat, she offered what appeared to be the barest sketch of her own history: that she was a high school senior and was at home yesterday ditching school. I began to wonder if my initial feelings about her were correct, that she was simply a troubled teenager. Other things, however, bothered me.

The primary one was when Martin started talking about his life partner, Jerry. When Martin related rather matter-of-factly that he and Jerry had been partners for three years and had planned to marry in a civil union this fall, I snuck a peek at Heather. She was glowering at him with a look she was doing her best to mask, but which spoke volumes.

It was one of pure hatred.

Martin's voice echoed in my memories from last night. I've never had a run-in with those so-called Aryan Nations racists, but...

But nothing. I'd made a vow to myself years ago to never judge a person based on their appearance and I was d.a.m.ned if I was going to start now. Maybe Heather was simply h.o.m.ophobic. Surely that had to be the reason for that look.

Tracy didn't appear to notice. Neither did Lori or James, for that matter. James talked about his son and his wife, how he missed them, and he almost started crying again. At one point I asked Heather about her parents. Did she worry about them? "Yeah, I do," she said. She was looking down, picking at the towel she sat on. She was wearing my Dawn of the Dead T-s.h.i.+rt and a pair of Tracy's shorts.

"Do you think they're okay?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I like to think they are."

"What did your folks do?"

Heather didn't say anything. She wouldn't look up at anybody, either. The pause was uncomfortable and she finally shrugged and threw a pebble she'd been twiddling in her fingers. "Nothing much. Just...you know...usual stuff."

"I'm hot!" Emily protested. Lori was holding her in her lap and Emily turned to her mother. "I'm really hot, Mommy!"

"C'mere sweetie," Tracy said, opening her arms to her.

"I really just want to go home!" Emily started to cry again.

I heard a rustle behind me.

How long they'd been creeping up in the field behind us, I have no idea. There were a bunch of them, well over thirty, and they were spread out in a rough semi-circle one hundred yards away from us. Some of them were hunched over as if to avoid being seen, others were walking stealthily, their gaze fixed on us. When they saw me turn they cried out in unison, "Aaarrrggghhhh!" and charged.

"Get Emily in the car!" I shouted at Tracy. I stood up, drew the Sig and started shooting.

Everybody was up and running toward the SUV. I quickly emptied the magazine, ejected the empty, slapped in a new one and continued firing. I got most of my targets, and just as I was beginning to really panic I heard another volley of gunfire beside me. Lori had somehow grabbed the Kimber and she held it in the cla.s.sic firing stance, firing the weapon with a mad determination set in her face. Likewise, Martin had retrieved the Ruger and he let blast with a barrage of semi-automatic gunfire that seemed like something out of a movie. The primitives were so close then-fifty to twenty yards away thanks to their stealth and mad sprint-and all we had to do was point our weapons and spray. The barrage of gunfire was so loud, the frenzy of our counter-attack and the surprise of everything so overwhelming, that I didn't even realize some of them were holding sticks and rocks as makes.h.i.+ft weapons. I didn't realize this until several of the rocks clattered around the SUV uselessly. One whacked the hood, leaving a dent, but I didn't see that until much later.

With the smell of gunfire heavy in the air and that weird feeling hitting me again, my heart was pumping. Several of the primitives were still alive. They were lying on the ground, wailing in pain, clutching legs, arms, and shoulders. "How the h.e.l.l did they just sneak up on us?" Lori asked, her voice trembling.

"I don't know." I took a quick look around. Thank G.o.d we noticed them soon enough or we'd probably all be dead by now. "This isn't good."

"No s.h.i.+t it isn't good!" Martin exclaimed. He ejected the spent magazine of the Ruger and slapped in a fresh one. "They not only snuck up on us, they were throwing rocks!"

"What?" This was the first I heard of this.

Martin motioned at the road. A dozen rocks lay on the ground, some near the jeep. "Some of them were throwing rocks, but they were too far away to do any damage."

Through the ringing in my ears I was finally aware of the rest of our clan, especially Emily, who was screaming in the SUV. My heart bled for her. It felt horrible to hear my little girl cry out in such absolute fright like that.

"Behind us to the east!" Martin cried out and then I heard him unleash another barrage of gunfire again. More primitives.

I was near the driver's side of the SUV and I got the door open, reached underneath the seat and grabbed some more magazines. Tracy was hunkered down in the front seat, s.h.i.+elding Emily from what was happening. Emily was hysterical, screaming and crying that she wanted to get out of here, she just wanted to go home now! From the backseat, James was saying, "What's going on? Are they dead? What's happening?" and Heather was saying, "This is so f.u.c.ked up!" but I didn't stop to engage them with their questions or comments. I got back into the fray, fresh magazine in my Sig and joined Martin and Lori, who were firing away at another onslaught of primitives who'd snuck up on us from the east. How we didn't see them while driving back to the main road from the direction of Edwards Air Force base, I have no idea. Somehow they'd snuck up on us from the east and the other group had snuck up on us from the west in what appeared to be a coordinated move. Once again they were no match for firearms. I have no idea how far back they were before Martin noticed this batch, but they couldn't have been more than a hundred yards away. They were dropping like flies from the gunfire. A few rocks were lobbed at us. One lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d somehow avoided being hit by all the gunfire and was getting closer to us. He was dressed in a tattered fast food restaurant uniform. He let out a war whoop and lobbed a rock our way. It came dangerously close, hitting the roof of the SUV. Another rock struck Lori in the shoulder. "Hey!" she yelled. She ejected a spent magazine from the .45 and was slapping a fresh one in when another rock hit her right arm. She brought the gun up but I beat her to it. I took that primitive down with a headshot and Martin took care of another one for me, emptying out the rest of his magazine into him as the primitive did a mad dance, dropping another rock harmlessly to the ground.

In the brief silence that followed I quickly checked all directions. Nothing as far as the eye could see. "We seem to be clear," I said.

Amid Emily's screams in the SUV I could hear the howls of pain from those primitives that were still alive. I had three fresh magazines stuffed down my jeans and I don't know how many rounds left in my Sig. To Lori, I said, "Make sure they're okay in there." She nodded and darted toward the SUV. "I'll take these," I said to Martin, stepping toward the east field to finish off the wounded.

"I'll take care of the others," I heard Martin say.

As I entered the field toward the first wounded primitive, I was filled with an unimaginable fury. It was so great that I didn't care about wasting the ammo. We'd almost been killed! I took my fury and anger out on the first wounded primitive I saw, shooting him in the head. What pa.s.sed for his brains splattered the rocks behind him.

A rock smashed into the back of my shoulder and almost knocked me to the ground.

When I turned around I saw one of the wounded primitives pawing at the ground for another rock. He'd taken a gunshot to the leg and was splayed out on his right side. He was wearing the tattered remnants of a work s.h.i.+rt and a dirty pair of blue jeans. His hair hung in his face. He had a wild look to him. His eyes met mine and he growled at me.

"You f.u.c.k," I said. I raised the Sig, placed the primitive's head in my sights and obliterated it with one shot.

I took care of the remaining surviving primitives quickly. I didn't even pause to think I was killing somebody's loved one, mother, father, sister or brother. They weren't human anymore. They were wild animals that needed to be wiped out in order to ensure my clan's safety. By the time I was finished, Martin was already at the SUV. I hurried over, adrenaline still pumping and then I was faced with a new problem. Emily was hysterical.

Tracy looked and sounded frantic as she tried to hold a struggling Emily down. "Let me go! I want to go home! Let me goooo!!!"

Lori was at the pa.s.senger side door trying to help. The Kimber was jammed down in the front pocket of the shorts she was wearing. I could see the b.u.t.t of the weapon peaking out. Tracy said, "The Valium is in the back in my red bag, just get it-"

James Goodman's bearded face loomed in front of the back window. "Did you get them all?"

Martin answered him. "We got them, but there may be more."