Zombie Invasion

  * * *

  It took twelve hours to make it to Albuquerque, New Mexico. They would meet with one of his college friends, John Blake, who was on his way from Wyoming. They stopped outside a lone diner at the edge of town. Franklin was familiar with the area and chose it because of its isolation.

  An armored truck pulled up next to his car, a bus followed. Soldiers exited from the rear. From the other side, a man in army fatigues came out carrying a black medical bag. He was a tall black man and was smiling. The smile alarmed Franklin. Something wasn’t right, he knew it. Their news was bad enough; he didn’t have strength to hear this man’s bad news and prayed he was wrong. He returned the smile with vigor, it would be all right, he thought.

  “Hello, old friend.”

  Franklin shook his hand. “Blake, how are you?”

  The man’s face saddened. “Not well.”

  Franklin regretted asking the question. He was right, the man’s eyes held no light. Whatever it is, it’s bad. “Sorry!”

  “It’s okay,” said Blake. “Get aboard so we can go.”

  “We lost Jamar and Yileen,” he said. Something about sharing a loss always brought people together. Blake closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The two men hugged, appreciating each other’s patience.

  The hug was interrupted when his wife and daughter came out of the car. The look on Blake’s face was startling. Franklin wanted to ask, but didn’t. Franklin looked at his family and assumed his friend had the same reaction every man had. For men, being covered in dried blood is normal and dismissed with the times. But to see it on women and children, it brought reality to the turn life had taken.

  “We have to put you all to sleep for the journey,” said Blake. His tone was flat, lifeless. Franklin considered asking, but knew his friend to be private. If he wanted him to know, he would have told him. He thought what to say, and in the end, only said two words.

  “We know.”

  “Let’s get you on the bus and get you something to eat, then, lights out.” Blake tried smiling, but it made no impact on none of the three.

  “Did you bring the serum?” he asked Blake quietly so others couldn’t hear.

  Blake gave a pained looked.

  Franklin pulled a paper from his pocket. With shaky fingers, he extended it to his friend. “This is our lineage. Hanya is the strongest of us all, she must be saved. If it takes the serum . . . she has to have it for the future.” Franklin grabbed a hold of the man in desperation. He pleaded with Blake.

  “Don’t worry, old friend, she will be okay, all of you will be okay. Go into quarantine and when you emerge, we will discuss the plan in greater detail.”

  “Promise me, Blake. Promise me you will look out for her. If we turn,” his breathing became erratic, “the serum, she must have it for the future. Promise me you will give it to her and you will keep her safe. Promise me!” he didn’t care that he looked undignified tugging on the man’s shirt. He had to get his point across, just in case.

  “I will keep you all safe. Now go, we will talk later.”

  Before the guards could take him away, Franklin shoved the folded paper into Blake’s hand. “For the future.”

  “The future.”

  “Hanya knows everything, I made sure to prepare her, if for some reason . . . well, you know.”

  “I know old friend, everything is waiting for us at our new camp.”

  Blake smiled as the man was carried away.

  Franklin could only sigh. He thought of his grandfather, Running Bear, and then smiled. Ancestors always protect you, the old man used to say. He prayed to his forefathers that it was true. As he neared the door, he saw the image of a proud stag, smiling at him. Franklin smiled, all would be fine.

  They walked to the back of the bus and climbed aboard. After the soldiers returned from their raid on the restaurant, the caravan took off for Camp Vix. Hanya wanted to meet the other children, Blake would not allow the contact. He gave them a shot after they ate and the family went to sleep.