The Survivalist: Madness Rules Part 23

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She needed to know the truth.

She stood up with the toothbrush in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"What's wrong?"

"Last night, the doctor told me something. It's going to hurt for you to hear it, but I know you're strong enough to handle it."

She sat back on the bed.

"My mom's dead, isn't she?"

It surprised him. "How'd you know?"

Samantha put her hands in her lap and stared at the toothbrush.

"I just did."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I really am."

"How did it happen?"

Tanner sat down on the bed next to her.

"I don't really know. The doctor only said that she'd been killed by one of her advisors. I don't know who or why."

"I hope it didn't hurt too bad."

"So do I."

Samantha sat, saying nothing for nearly a full minute. Tanner sat beside her, equally as quiet.

"What are we going to do now?" she asked.

He started to tell her that he was going to take her to Mount Weather, that she would be better off there. But for some reason, his mouth couldn't quite form the words.

"I don't know," he said with a sigh. "What do you want to do?"

"I should probably still go to Mount Weather, right?"

"Right."

"People would take care of me, make sure I go back to school."

"I'm sure they would."

She looked up at him, and there were tears in her eyes.

"Is that what you want?"

He swallowed to keep his voice from breaking.

"No."

"You love me, right?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"Okay then," she said, wiping at her eyes. "I guess we're stuck with each other."

He smiled and put his arm around her.

"I guess we are."

Tanner was strapping his backpack to the motorcycle when Samantha came out of the house.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I've been thinking..."

He felt his stomach tighten. Had she changed her mind already?

"Yeah?"

"I don't really have anything of my mom's to remember her by. That's not right."

"You have her eyes."

She smiled. "I do, don't I?"

"What were you thinking?"

"That maybe we could go by our old house to get a few things. I doubt anyone has taken them."

"What old house?" As soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer. "Wait, you're talking about the White House."

"Mom had lots of pretty things there. Pictures of our family, too."

Tanner thought about what Washington, DC, must look like. Jammed streets. Decaying bodies. And plenty of the infected.

"Going into DC would be terribly dangerous," he said, knowing that mere words wouldn't change her mind. Her mother's belongings were a treasure worthy of any quest, and no threat of bandits, zombies, or plagues was going to deter her.

"I know."

"Our only chance would be to get in and out before dark," he said, thinking out loud.

"You said that we could be to Mount Weather by lunchtime. Washington is only like sixty miles from there."

"You been studying the map again?" She had a way of doing that before arguing her case for a detour.

"Maybe."

"Come on then," he said, swinging his leg up over the bike. "We'd better get rolling."

She tossed her backpack up next to his and strapped it down.

"This will be easier than you think. I promise."

"I have yet to see anything easy when it comes to you, Samantha Gla.s.s."

She hopped up on the seat and wrapped her arms around him.

"Have you been eating enough?" she said in a very serious tone. "Really. You're feeling so trim."

Even detouring around every major interstate, the drive from Altoona to Washington was less than two hundred miles. To Tanner's surprise, less than six hours later, they were navigating unbelievable traffic jams in Fort Myer, Virginia. Hundreds of thousands of cars jammed every major roadway. Decaying corpses, now little more than clumps of dried flesh, hair, and bones, lay on the streets and sidewalks like pods from the body s.n.a.t.c.hers. The dead were dressed in all manner of clothing: business suits, dresses, hiking shorts, and blue jeans-people who had been unable to stop going about their normal activities either because of perceived necessity or tragic denial.

Tanner maneuvered the heavy touring bike over sidewalks, weaving through alleyways and around vehicles. When things got too tight, he would stop the motorcycle and use his feet to guide them through.

"This is horrible," Samantha said, studying the chaos around them.

"It's only going to get worse the further in we go."

He turned east onto 2nd Street, a two-lane residential road that paralleled Arlington Boulevard. They followed it past a set of public housing projects, the plain red brick buildings looking no better or worse for the world having been destroyed.

They crossed an overpa.s.s and came to a small guard booth in the center of the road. A sign hung on the front of the building, Hatfield Gate. The booth was empty, and both of the lift barriers were bent at odd angles, a result of cars pushing their way though. Tanner continued ahead, swerving around the twisted metal barriers.

It was only after another few hundred feet that he realized where they were. Directly ahead was a huge plot of green gra.s.s, dotted with endless rows of small white marble gravestones. He stopped and stared out at the sprawling graveyard. The gra.s.s was overgrown and unkempt, but it in no way took from the ominous beauty of the site.

"What are those?" she asked.

"Graves."

"I've never seen so many. Where are we?"

"Arlington."

"That's a cemetery, right?"

"You're the president's daughter, and you've never been to Arlington National Cemetery?"

She shook her head.

"Hang on," he said, turning the handle bars. "It's important that you see this."

Tanner turned the bike down a small road, each side blanketed by endless graves. He swung left on McPherson Drive and continued navigating through several more sections of the cemetery. Samantha sat speechless as she took in the enormity of the site. Less than a minute later, they stopped in front of a ma.s.sive white amphitheater.

"That is so cool," she said, looking up at it. "Can we go inside?"

"We can go wherever we want. The world is everyone's and no one's."

He dismounted and led her up a short set of marble stairs to stand at the front entrance of the amphitheater. Inside, curved rows of white bleachers stretched from left to right, filling the oblong shaped structure.

"It's like a Roman coliseum," she said, running her hand across the smooth marble wall.

"Let's walk to the other side. I want to show you something."

Tanner led her around the inside ring of the structure, and they were both awestruck by the majestic beauty of the carved marble and intricate pillars. When they got to the opposite side, he pointed to an inscription carved above the entrance.

Samantha read it aloud. "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. That's Latin, right?"

He nodded.

"Do you know what it means?"

"It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country."

She seemed surprised. "You understand Latin?"

"Of course. Don't you?"

She squinted at him with suspicion.

He grinned. "I brought my own son here when he was a boy. I'm taking it on faith that the tour guide knew what he was talking about."

"I didn't think you were that smart," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

They continued back around to the main entrance and slowly descended the marble staircase. Directly in front of the amphitheater were three white inlaid slabs and, behind them, a raised white marble tomb. Samantha walked up to the sarcophagus and traced her fingers over the words. Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to G.o.d.

"I've heard of this place," she said. "It's where they buried a special soldier, right?"

"Something like that. I think it symbolizes all the soldiers who were lost or never identified."

"Why would-"

Samantha's question was cut short by a growl from behind them. They spun to find a pack of dogs approaching.

Tanner glanced at the motorcycle. It was maybe thirty feet away-too far to get to, let alone escape on. He reached down, grabbed Samantha, and hoisted her up to the top of the tomb. She toppled forward and nearly rolled off the other side as she struggled to find her balance on the stone structure.

When she was finally stable, she turned back to him.

"Come on!" she shouted, holding out her hands.

The top of the sarcophagus was a little over eight feet off the ground, and Tanner doubted that he could make it up in time. He was big and heavy, and while those qualities were great in a fistfight, they were less than optimal when trying to scamper up anything. Neither was the help of a ninety-pound girl going to make much of a difference.

Tanner turned and brought the sawed-off shotgun up to his shoulder. There were eight dogs, all mutts and all big enough to give Cujo a run for his money. The dogs had a crazed, I've-been-eating-people-for-too-long, look in their eyes. He took aim at the one leading the pack and squeezed the trigger. A tight load of buckshot slammed into the dog's chest, and it immediately tumbled forward, dead. Tanner sidestepped away from the tomb as he brought the weapon back down. He didn't know if any dog could jump high enough to get to Samantha, but he couldn't take the chance.

As he prepared for his next shot, a pop sounded from behind him. He glanced back and saw Samantha lying p.r.o.ne on top of the tomb, looking down the sights of her rifle. The second dog fell, whining as it crawled away.

The remaining six closed in on Tanner.