Chapter 8.

Friday, June 22, 2001 University of Utah Hospital Salt Lake City, UT 8:00 AM.

It took Matt nearly an hour of creeping back down the winding road, choked full of refugees, before he finally found an area big enough to back the bus in. It was near the bottom, not fifty yards from the nearest hill with a spotlight. He spent the next five minutes making a fifteen-point turn to back the bus into the slot. If he had to get out of there in a hurry, he didn't want to be hampered by backing the bus out. He killed the engine and ran his fingers through his hair, stifling a yawn. He was exhausted!

"I hope a doctor is helping Zack." David said.

"They are." Matt sounded unsure himself. "This is a hospital. The radio is broadcasting medical help here. They wouldn't send people to a rescue station if they couldn't help them."

"You hope." David said.

"Where are we?" He was startled by his mothers voice behind him. Her sagging, disheveled hair, and her flushed, tear streaked face stabbed a knife of agony through his heart.

"I'm so sorry Mom." he said, falling into her arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and fresh sobs overcame David. There were no more tears left in Sharon. She just closed her eyes and held her boy tightly.

"I know." she said softly. "I know." Matt took that as his cue to leave.

A myriad of aromas assaulted Matt's nose as he first stepped off the bus. The smoke from the cooking fires, overlaid with the mouth-watering scent of real food. He realized with some distaste that he had eaten nothing but spam, sardines and Pork and Beans since they had first took refuge in the bomb shelter under the high school. If he never ate them again it would be to soon.

We have got to get out of this fucking city.

It was all he had been thinking about since Frank had died the night before.

Two men walked around the front of the bus, one of them the man in the blue vest and Levis, with the shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Did you get your friend to a doctor?" he asked.

"Yeah. Hopefully they're operating on him right now." Matt said.

"Don't know if that's good or bad myself." the man said.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked.

"I don't know if I'd call what they do up there surgery." there was the hint of a smile on the mans face. "But I guess beggars can't be choosers now can they?"

"No. I guess not." Matt answered. He was still wondering what the man's last statement had meant. "Those are real doctors up there? Right?"

"Oh sure they're real doctors." the man said. "But even real doctor have their limits when they see hundreds of patients per day and no longer have the proper medical supplies to treat them. They'll do what they can for him. You just pray it's enough."

Zack better live! First Frank, and now this? I can't do this by myself.

He remembered Franks dying gasp.

Take care of my family.

They were Matt's responsibility now. He may not like it, but he could never walk away from them. In their short time together, they had grown close, relying on one another to survive. He had to get them to safety. Out of the city, and up to Adam and Kelly's property up on Rainbow Lake. The man saw the grim look cross Matt's face.

"Ron. Ron Black." he held out his hand. Matt took it in a shake.

"Matt Robbins."

"And this here is my brother Rick." he looked toward the other man, standing silent, assault rifle slung. Rick nodded to Matt, adjusting his blue ball cap.

"Is that there your family?" he nodded toward the bus.

"I guess you could say that. They were friends. Her husband was killed. We're all each other have."

"How bout you let me show you around." Ron said.

"Sure. Just give me a minute." He turned and went onto the bus. Sharon and David sat together, talking quietly. The crying was done for now, and they both seemed the better.

"I'm going to go take a look around." Matt said. "See if I can catch some news on what's happening. David, I need you to hold the fort while I'm gone. Think you can handle that?"

"No problem." David said.

Sharon stood and gave Matt a huge hug, squeezing him tight then kissing him on the cheek. She held his face, looking him in the eye.

"Thank you," she said softly. "My husband thanks you." Matt could only smile awkwardly for several long seconds before leaving the bus. Ron was waiting for him. Rick had disappeared.

"Wasn't there another woman with you? Blonde?" Ron inquired.

"She stayed up at the hospital with Zack."

They began walking west, down to hill toward the edge of the encampment. People moved around them on their daily business like ants in a hive. Almost everyone they passed was armed, even the older, teenaged children. They passed several families preparing or eating their morning meal by their cooking fires. Large pots of stew... canned supplies they had with them. Army rations. He even saw fresh bread and rolls, cooked in a Dutch oven over the fire.

"Where do people get these things?" Matt asked.

"You'd be surprised what people take from their house when they don't plan on coming back. Some the army provides. The rest is salvaged."

"Salvaged?" Matt asked.

"You know...from the city?" Ron looked at Matt like he was a fool.

"You mean they loot it?"

"Where else do you think it comes from?"

"I haven't really thought about it. I'm just glad to be alive."

"Let me explain it to you." Ron said. "Right after the initial outbreak the hospital was flooded with wounded. Most of them bite victims." He gave Matt a grave look. "There was nothing they could do to help them."

"Nothing at all?"

"One bite is all it takes. One bite and you are infected. Then in two, three days at most, you become a zombie."

"What kind of disease do they carry?" Matt asked.

"No one knows. All they do know is that it is one hundred percent fatal. And the hospital was not prepared to deal with hundreds of zombies at a time. Within twenty-four hours, the Hospital, and nearly 1/4 of the campus was infested with zombies. But then the Army came in and kicked some deadfuck ass!" Ron broke into a laugh. "But once the hospital was retaken it was flooded with even more wounded. To prevent the deadfucks from overrunning the place again bite victims were shot immediately. The rest were helped. But the hospitals resources were depleted with a week. And that was over a month ago."

"The news only went off the air a couple weeks ago." Despite what was happening in the rest of the country and around the world, the emergency broadcast stations had all proclaimed Salt Lake City to be safe.

"How long has the curfew been in effect? When was the last time you had actually left your house?"

Matt was silent. Martial Law had been declared in Utah last November. Seven months ago.

"Exactly. " Ron continued. "We needed supplies. The Army was short on soldiers. They asked for volunteers to go on supply runs into the city. In exchange for their services, their vehicles would be maintained free of cost, plus they would be supplied with an M-16 and trained how to use it, as well as supplied with ammunition. Food and first rate medical care for their families as well. No parking lot surgery for them." he chuckled as if to some private joke. "It was an offer most of those seeking refuge here could not refuse."

"Where do you fit into all this?" Matt asked. Ron was silent, taking several steps before replying.

"I worked at the hospital. Campus security. I was on duty the night it all went to shit." His voice sounded pained.

"Aside from your brother do you have family here with you?"

Ron didn't answer him for quite sometime. "No. While I was too busy helping other people, other families, my own family..." He fell silent. When he finally did speak his voice was soft and full of loneliness. "Well they didn't make it..."

"I'm sorry." Matt said.

"Yeah so am I. But that's the past." His voice had suddenly hardened. "And there ain't nothing you can do about the past. Only learn from it. And I learned. Now I look out for myself. My brother's wife and kids."

"Then why are you helping me out?" Matt asked.

"Call it my time of the month."

Matt chuckled lightly. But there was still a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that there was a reason for Ron's interest. With the world falling apart around them, why would he choose to help a group of complete strangers? He wanted something from Matt. But what?

They reached the edge of the human congestion, emerging into open space. Ahead of them, fifty feet down the sloping grass the main army encampment began. In the distant horizon, a lone helicopter was approached from the west.

"Is this all of the military that is here?"

"Hell no." Ron snorted. "Fort Douglas is nearly at full compliment with more up at the hospital, as well as the south perimeter." As they neared the army encampment, two sentries appeared.

"Will... Tim..." Ron acknowledged both of them as they approached.

"Ron..." said the first sentry. Both sentries turned away, no longer interested in them.

They walked between two large black field tents into the main grounds of the army center. Soldiers moved about their various tasks, in small groups or by themselves. None paid them any attention. Ron led him across the yard over to where a row of Humvees was parked, beyond them personnel trucks. Even further beyond, he could see and Abram's tank parked at the base of one of the western perimeter hills. The main road leading in was about two hundred yards to their right. Ron walked right up to the motor pool tent and straight up to the Sergeant in charge.

"Ron..." the Sgt. smiled, shaking hands.

"Sgt. Downing. This is Matt." The Sgt. nodded in greeting, but did not offer his hand. "Matt and his family are new here. Came in on a school bus a couple of hours ago."

"Don't get to many buses up here." the Sgt. replied. Matt could already smell the hook being baited. Ron wanted to use the bus for a supply run. That was why he was being so helpful towards them.

"I don't plan on staying long." Matt said. "Once Zack is healed, we're out of here." He waited for them to say more but neither did.

Ron reached into his vest and withdrew a carton of cigarettes. Marlboro Reds, hard pack. He handed them over to Sgt. Downing.

"How about a ride along with one of the Humvees?" The Sgt. didn't even bother to haggle. He merely set the carton in a box under his folding metal desk.

"Number Five." He pointed without even looking up. There were a few men gathering around the Humvee. Ron led the way. The Sgt. grabbed his radio. "Number Five, this is base. Do you copy?"

"Roger base."

"You've got two to join. Re-assign. Is that clear?"

"Roger Base. Two too join. Re-assign. Over."

"What are we doing?" Matt asked.

"We're going to take a ride with some soldiers."

"But where?"

"Out on patrol."

"But where?" Matt stopped walking. "I want to know where the hell you're taking me?"

"I told you, out on patrol. This Battalion here is responsible for the western perimeter. That's a lot of ground to cover."

"I'm not going back down into the city."

"We're not going into the city." Ron said. "I told you the western perimeter of the base. It's completely safe."

"How long will we be gone?".

"Patrol lasts three hours. We just roam up and down the perimeter, looking for any zombies that have wandered up. If we see any, we stop and shoot them." Reluctantly, Matt began walking alongside Ron again. As Ron and Matt stepped up to the vehicle, two soldiers were slinging their rifles, and heading back toward the barracks tents. And by the looks on their faces, they didn't mind at all. Another soldier stepped up to them.

"Jenkins." Ron nodded.

"Coming along on this one, eh Ron?"

Matt was surprised at how many people knew Ron. But then again, he had been a hospital security guard, and was here since the beginning.

"Bringing a friend along as well."

The soldier stared at Matt long and hard, Matt stared back. He had a thick body, square jaw, thick black hair, a salt and pepper mustache, and grey, suspicious eyes. Matt identified his three stripes as Sergeant.

"You know how to use that thing?" he asked indicating Matt's AR-15. Matt nodded.

"Well climb in." the soldier motioned to the open door at the side of the Humvee. All three piled in. Aside from Matt, Ron, and Jenkins, there was the driver, another soldier riding shotgun manning the communications equipment, another sitting in the back next to Jenkins, and a final soldier in the top gunners position, where he manned the heavy machinegun. The engine was already running, and the Humvee began rolling. The Comtech switched frequencies on the radio, and the steady drone of cross communication between various field units could be heard.

"Patrol Five, reporting in." The radio crackled.

"Roger Patrol Five. You are instructed to begin your patrol northbound on the perimeter road. Do you copy Patrol five?"