We lurched ahead, free of the zombies, and Scott put the pedal to the metal as we screeched up the winding road. There were a few of the dead on the road, but Scott did a good job of avoiding them. I admired his resolve not to smash into each one like a piñata, which might have damaged the truck. The last thing we needed was to be stuck.
“Let go of that gun!” Lee yelled, but I ignored him and pried it loose. Jack held onto him so he couldn’t get into the seat; his legs hung over the back of the truck like zombie bait. I didn’t care if one of them took him. I was just as likely to put a bullet in his skull after what he did to Haley.
“Scott, pull over as soon as we’re free. Lee and I are going to have a little chat.”
“Does the chat involve tossing his ass off a cliff?”
“As much as I know we need to keep other humans alive, it is pretty tempting.”
Lee stared daggers at me. If he had the gun, I was sure he would have shot me right about then. The scar that ran up his cheek was livid as he ground his teeth together, and I swore I could smell the stench of death on him. How I wanted to shoot him and be done with it.
“At least let me sit in the seat like a big boy. I hate having my ass hanging out for the zombies to latch onto.”
“Do you think Haley felt that way, too? Think she’d like to be sitting with us, instead of lying in a pile of blood, you son of a bitch?”
“Hey, son, she was changing into one of them, and you know it. Everyone knows that when the eyes go green, you shoot. We don’t need any more of those ghouls in the world. They’re already convinced they’re stronger and better than us. I did her and you a favor. It’s time you recognize what’s right in front of you.”
“What’s in front of you, Lee, is a fucking gun, and it’s pointed at your face. Do you really want to keep justifying killing the girl that helped us escape? A girl, Lee, a seventeen-year-old girl!” My hands shook with rage as I lifted the gun and pointed it at his forehead. My finger fell across the trigger, and I wanted to apply the pressure it would take to fire the bullet into his smirking face.
“You going to shoot one of your own? Are you going to shoot a survivor?” he challenged me.
“Is that the same choice you’ve offered the people you dragged out of homes? The people your men raped and killed?”
He didn’t even acknowledge my questions. He just stared at me like I was speaking a different language. I hated this man, and I barely knew him.
“Do it,” Scott said.
I glanced over, and his eyes were just as livid as my own. Jack looked between us, but I couldn’t read his expression. Maybe, like me, he was exhausted and sick of running.
“Scott, pull over, please,” I said, deciding I couldn’t kill Lee. As much as I wanted to, he was right.
Scott came to a halt and took the MP5 from my lap. He looked at me and winked, signifying that whatever I chose, he was behind me.
“Get out,” I said simply.
“You gonna just shoot me here, and leave my body for the goddamn zombies? Takes a real man to do that, you know—to step forward and take care of business. It takes a man with guts. You sure you’re up to the challenge?”
“Get out of the fucking truck. NOW!”
Lee stared at me for a while, shook his head, and then slid out of the back seat.
It was much quieter here, a mile or so from the death and destruction. There were a few birds chirping, and noises from the bushes surrounding the road. A lazy cloud picked that moment to drift over the sun, setting the road on fire as diffuse light scattered across the ground, faded, and then reappeared.
I pointed the gun at his face and thought about all the reasons I should let him live. He was one of us, as disgusted as I was with him. He was a human, and we were an endangered species. I thought of all those who had passed into the night since the uprising of the dead, saw their faces, and felt a sense of loss.
Would one more death change anything? Then I pulled the trigger.
Shock registered on Lee’s face as the hammer smacked against a dry chamber. I stared at him then at the gun. With a cry of fury, I tossed the pistol into the bushes.
I reached across the back of the seat, grabbed him by the collar and pushed. His precarious position, ass in the air, meant he had no purchase. He flopped off the truck and landed in a heap. I heard the air hiss out of his body when he struck. .
“Go join the dead. I hear they’re recruiting.”
“Coward. Come back here and face me. Come back here! This isn’t over!” he screamed as we drove away. He was on his hands and knees, hand pressed to his stomach.
He was right about that; it was far from over, but that was all later.
We drove for miles until we came to the outskirts of Vesper Lake. The road was blackened and scarred, and the same husks of cars I had grown used to were now faded shadows in the pale light. We needed a place to hole up, but the cabin was too risky this late in the day. The drive would take at least an hour, and I didn’t trust our gas supply to get us there.
Every once in a while, the radio squeaked, but I didn’t take time to figure it out. Scott fiddled with it and changed channels. He listened and sometimes spoke into the old CB speaker, but he didn’t get a reply.
We pulled off on a dirt road, which we followed until we came to an old farm. The house was blackened and gutted, but we found a barn in the back—more a slaughterhouse than anything else. The sign out front informed us that they sold quarter and half slabs of beef. I was so hungry I was pretty sure I could devour one if it appeared. I wouldn’t mind a juicy steak cooked over an open flame.
We did a quick reconnaissance, but the place was long deserted. The remains of a man, or woman, in overalls, lay outside of the building. It didn’t twitch, so we left it undisturbed. There were no animals left, and the gates around the place were wide open. We didn’t bother with the house; it was obviously empty. The roof was partially caved in, and one side had disappeared in the flames.
The place we called home for the night still bore the stench of things long dead. There was a bucket in the corner filled with a dried-out collection of organs and intestines. It was so desiccated flies didn’t even buzz around it. I took it outside and tossed it as far away as I could. Then I slid the long door closed and latched it with some bindings I found over one low wall that was probably used as a waiting room prior to slaughter.
Jack sat in the back of the truck with his head drooped forward, chin on chest, as he snored like a locomotive. He was still covered in blood. I looked over the remains of my own clothing and thought of how much I would give for a change right now. My week in the woods and the cages had not been kind to them. My pants were nearly dry, but they were hard to move in. They were crusted with old salt from my sweat, mud from the woods, and all manner of things that I must have brushed into while on the run. Sniffing the shirt, I smelled my own stench; not a hint of Haley to be found. I hung my head and sighed.
“Yeah brother, I’d cry too. You smell like shit,” Scott said. He had the same quirky grin as always, and I almost embraced him right then and there. It was my fault he was stuck here with me, but he took it in good spirit, just like everything else. I hoped someday I would be able to make it up to him.
“What the hell do we do now?” I said.
“I don’t know about you, but I would love to get some rest, and then call in an air strike on the bastards that kept us in that cage. We left a lot of people back there.”