“Where’s home?”
“I’ve already told you. Idaho.”
“I thought you said Iowa,” Dakota laughed, frowning when Jamie shook his head. He burst into tears soon after. “You mean…you mean they’ll have to go all that way?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to them,” Jamie said. “I promise.”
“What about Dustin, Michael and Alexis?”
“They’re on their own from here.” Jamie closed his eyes. “We can’t do anything for them.”
The sound of an engine revving up drew both of their eyes toward the truck dealership. “Is that Desmond?”
A huge red truck barreled out of the building and toward the asylum.
“Get ready,” Jamie said, slugging his gun out from over his shoulder. “I’m going first, you come second.”
Dakota drew his gun and allowed himself a moment as Jamie slid down the ladder. When he thought that none of the infected would turn around and pursue Jamie, he started down the ladder, praying that nothing bad would happen in the next few minutes.
This is it.
Desmond honked the horn.
Jamie, Dakota, and the zombies looked up.
“COME AND GET SOME OF THIS!” Desmond screamed out the open window.
The boy slammed his foot on the gas.
The truck lurched forward and swallowed a group of zombies under its massive tires.
“You ready?” Jamie asked. “On my mark. One… two…”
This isn’t going to go well.
“THREE!”
They both took off at the exact same time. A group of zombies took notice and stumbled toward them. Jamie slammed his elbow into one of their chests and sprayed the biggest group to their right with machinegun fire. Dakota, meanwhile, fired a shot into the face of a woman who appeared to be nothing more than normal. The thought of her being freshly turned briefly occurred to him after she went down, but he couldn’t bother to dwell on it for long. The truck was no more than a few dozen feet in front of them, and he had to remain focused.
Focused, he thought, raising his gun and firing another shot. Focused.
Jamie jammed his hand back behind him. Dakota took it and allowed him to pull them closer together.
“DESMOND!” Jamie cried. “Reverse and slam into them!”
The boy gunned the truck into reverse, taking out a few of the zombies loitering around the vehicle in the process, then slammed it forward again, side-sweeping a crowd and blocking off the majority pooling out of the front doors.
The boy leaned into the passenger seat and threw the door open.
“COME ON!” he screamed.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jamie lifted Dakota into his arms and hurled him into the vehicle.
Dakota’s head collided with the center console.
A flash of white-hot light exploded over his vision, stabbing needles into the center of his head. The white fog cleared long enough for him to fire off a shot just as Jamie was climbing into the car.
The corpse fell back, allowing Jamie to slam the door shut.
Desmond clicked the locks shut, grabbed the shift, pushed it into gear, then tore out of the parking lot as fast as he could.
Dakota’s vision began to spin.
“Dakota?” Jamie asked, his voice fading.
“I’m…ok,” Dakota said. “I just hit my head.”
He blacked out a moment later.
The last thing he saw was Jamie screaming at Desmond.
Dakota woke what seemed like days later. Head throbbing and mouth so parched he could barely move it, he opened his eyes to find himself lying in the backseat, face-up and head propped on top of a towel.
Where am I?
It took him but a moment to remember their frantic flight from Saint David’s. It took him an even shorter amount of time to start crying once he thought of Steve, Ian and Erik all by themselves.
“It’ll be ok,” he whispered, trying hard to convince himself but grimacing as more needles stabbed into his brain. They’ll be just fine. Erik’ll take care of them.
He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked into the front seat, expecting to find Desmond and Jamie dozing or at least sitting there in silence. When he didn’t, however, his eyes immediately fell to the front window, where he found the truck to be sitting on the side of the road next to what appeared to be a bed and breakfast.
How far out are we?
He looked at the clock. Though the display read 11:35, that gave him no indication as to how long he had been passed out.
Head throbbing, eyes still raw from crying, he looked to his right just in time to see Jamie and Desmond coming out of the building.
Thank God.
He opened the door. “Hey,” Jamie said.
“Hey,” Dakota replied, shielding his eyes from the glaring light. “How long was I out?”
“Three hours,” Desmond said. He gestured Dakota to slide over so he could sit one of the boxes on the floor. “You hungry?”
“What’s in there?”
“Chips.”
Dakota helped himself. Jamie leaned into the vehicle, set his box on the floor beside Desmond’s, then pushed himself further inside to plant a kiss on Dakota’s lips. “How you feeling?”
“My head hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”
“We’ll stop at a gas station and see if we can find any painkillers. Sorry I had to throw you in.”
“That’s ok.” Dakota chuckled. “Just as long as we’re safe.”
“We are. Desmond did a helluva job driving.”
“I tried,” the boy said, sliding into the passenger seat.
“You did good,” Dakota nodded. “You run fast too.”
“I tried.”
“You did more than try,” Jamie said. “You saved our lives, bud. You should be proud.”
Desmond merely frowned. Jamie closed both doors before circling around the vehicle to crawl into the driver’s seat.
“Which way are we headed?” Dakota questioned.
“I couldn’t get on the other side of the road. We’re heading toward Minnesota.”
“Minnesota?”
“We’re gonna keep heading this way, then take the interstate down to Indianapolis before taking I-80 through Nebraska and Wyoming.”
“I know you’ll get us there,” Dakota said.
“Definitely.” Jamie started the truck. “It’ll take us a few hours to get to Minnesota. I’m not sure how the two of you feel, but I’d rather keep driving for as long as we can.”
“I can switch off with you again,” Desmond said. “I don’t think Dakota’s up for driving though.”
“No,” Dakota admitted, grimacing as Jamie maneuvered the truck onto the road. “Not now.”
“I don’t want him driving anyway,” Jamie said, “especially after he passed out.”
Jamie looked up into the rearview mirror and smiled reassuringly at Dakota. Dakota smiled back.
As they started forward, toward Minnesota and the next chapter in their lives, Dakota felt a pang of guilt for ever feeling safe at the asylum.
All good things eventually came to an end. He’d have to remember that.
They drove through the day and late into the night. The interstate was all but empty, an act marked not by cars or the undead—who, in low numbers, seemed to follow the roads as though driven by some clearer instinct. The weather clear, the sun was out, and little hindered them from their pursuit of safety up until evening. About that time, a light drizzle began, followed by what eventually turned into a full-blown thunderstorm.
“We can’t drive in this,” Desmond said, finger placidly tapping the glass as a flash of lightening momentarily lit up the hazy night sky.