Driving through Grand Junction was already dangerous but doing so at night made it even more precarious because when the sun set, the Generates came out.
The glow of numerous fires below told him the city was truly occupied by the heathens. His one saving grace could be if they were preoccupied feasting or performing any number of their known ceremonies. For a group of humans that had devolved to their current state, they very much clung to things uniquely human, such as organized rituals and ceremonies.
Taking the main road through Grand Junction wasn’t going to work so he planned on driving back roads and side streets. The Generates were many but even with their numbers, they couldn’t man every road.
Armed with a street map of downtown, he plotted several routes and put them to memory. Part of his plan was to make the drive using only his night vision, he had hoped to have moon glow but his timing was off. He attached the night vision to his helmet, prepared every weapon he had and loaded every magazine. He was ready to go but needed to do one more thing. He took the phone and called the number. All he got was a steady ring. He began to grow concerned that something had happened to this Jacob character. Frustrated, he tossed the phone onto the seat, got behind the wheel, and headed towards the first turn off just a mile ahead.
Gunny walked in through the front door and headed towards the others who were grouped together around the dining table. The only light Jacob wanted on was a small battery powered lantern.
“What’s for dinner?” Gunny asked looking around at the long faces.
“Don’t know, Chef said it would be up but that was a good thirty minutes ago,” Leigh complained, she was cleaning her side arm, a Glock 17.
“Why does everyone look like their pet cat was just killed?” Gunny joked, taking off his tactical vest and hanging it from the seat back.
“Hungry,” Leigh answered.
Jacob was busy looking over a map while Portia just sat, lost in her own thoughts.
“Well, I’m going to go check on Chef, I promised Crusher I’d bring him some chow,” Gunny said and headed towards the kitchen. The hall was dark and from the absence of light coming from the kitchen, Chef wasn’t there. “Hey, Chef you there?” Gunny asked walking into the pitch black room. He removed a flashlight and turned it on. From the looks of it, Chef hadn’t been doing anything back here. He quickly exited and went back to the group. “Hey guys, Chef isn’t back there. And he’s not cooking shit.”
“Maybe he’s jerking off somewhere,” Leigh joked.
“No, I’m serious, he’s gone, somethings not right,” Gunny stressed.
Leigh jumped up, quickly put the pistol back together, inserted a full magazine and racked the slide. “Let’s go look for Chef.”
Jacob turned to Portia who stood looking lost. He pulled out an old Smith and Wesson revolver and handed it to her. “Here, you’ll need something to protect you just in case.” Portia took the gun and held it in her open hand unsure of how to use it. “It’s simple, point, and pull the trigger. You have six rounds in there,” Jacob said and headed out with Leigh and Gunny.
“Should I come too?” she asked.
Jacob hollered out, “No, stay put.”
The three exited the house and found Crusher on the far left side leaning against the corner of the house. “What’s up?” he called out.
“Chef, he’s missing,” Jacob said.
“I haven’t seen him,” Crusher said.
“Stay on guard, Portia’s inside, Leigh go around back check out those small outbuildings, I’ll go search the barn and Gunny, go to the garage,” Jacob ordered.
Just as they all stepped off, the front door opened and Portia came out, “Hey, he’s in here.”
They all came back to the house. Jacob entered the house first, he was a mixed bag of emotions, first and foremost, he was concerned, but secondly, if he found out that Chef was screwing off, he’d be severely angry with him. “Where were you?” he asked Chef.
Hovering near the dining table, Chef answered, “I was out back, looking to see if the propane tank was off. The oven is gas, thought maybe I could cook something warm for us.”
Jacob approached him and asked again, “Where were you?”
“I told you, I went out back to see if I could find the propane tank.”
“You went back to the kitchen almost fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago,” Jacob said, suspecting something was wrong.
“It’s that simple, don’t be such a stress monster,” Chef snapped. “And I’ll let you know I did find the propane and we have a pot of baked beans cooking now.”
The others stood just behind Jacob, all leering suspiciously at him.
“What the fuck guys, I was only trying to make sure we had warm food versus cold, lighten up,” Chef barked and stormed off.
“Next time tell us, if you haven’t been aware, we’re being hunted right now,” Jacob hollered.
“Give him a break, boss,” Leigh said and went back to the dining table.
“Communication is key to everything,” Jacob said.
“I disagree, I think its firepower,” Leigh said, dropping the magazine, locking the slide to the rear and catching the bullet as it flew out of the chamber.
“If I were fifteen years younger,” Gunny joked at Leigh and gave her a wink.
“That’s sweet Pops, but I like my men at least younger than eighty,” she fired back. “Although you’re hot for an old guy,” she said returning the wink.
“Don’t listen to her, I’m only fifty-five, but I can still get it up,” Gunny said to Portia.
Portia chuckled at the inappropriate conversation.
Jacob hadn’t moved, he was still looking towards the kitchen. He sensed something was wrong but couldn’t put a finger on what it was.
The drive was slow but so far successful. He’d only had to make one detour and quickly got back on his route.
The glow from the countless fires helped illuminate his path and allowed him to go faster. The other major impediment was the debris that riddled the streets. He found himself swerving and veering around any number of large items left strewn on the street.
By his estimate he was over half way across town. He came to a crossroad street. From his memory, if he turned left and went south it would take him out of town but in order to get back on the old interstate he’d have to drive a few hours around through a pass. Straight ahead was direct and the interchange for the freeway was only two miles away. The issue was the bright glow from a bulk of the fires came from that direction.
“Which way?” he said out loud.
Out of the shadows a woman ran up and slammed her left hand on the hood, “Help, please.”
The clarity through the night vision wasn’t the best but it was good enough to tell him she wasn’t a Generate.
“Help, they’re after me, please,” she pleaded, her voice echoing down the street. Cradled in her left arm was a baby in a swaddle. “Please, help me.”
He revved the truck, hoping she’d get out of his way but she didn’t. He had three choices, run her over, help her or go in reverse.
The distinct cries from Generates sounded to his right. He looked but couldn’t see anything…yet, but they were coming.
“Help me,” she screamed, her voice panicked after hearing the Generates coming.
He revved the engine again and tapped the accelerator enough to warn her to get out of the way, but she wasn’t relenting.
“Please, they’ll kill me and my baby.”
This was not the situation Kyle wanted or needed to be in. He could easily run the woman over and even considered it, but doing so only made him like Barry or Xavier. No, he had to help her. He cracked his door and yelled, “Go to the passenger door!”