I looked down the road. We were close to my ex’s house, but not so close. I hated that. “We are going to find another car,” I said. “Roads aren’t as cluttered around here. I think we’ll make better time then. It will get us out of the rain. Turn the heat on.”
“A car. Good idea,” she said. It was a compromise, I’ll admit. She wasn’t going to push the issue further. I wasn’t going house hunting. Not anymore. Not because of rain. Not because we were cold. A car, that was different.
“Keys are probably in them,” Dave said. Hadn’t realized he’d been listening. He pointed at the cars in the street.
Figure the people turned on their way to and from places. Climbed out of their cars, feeling sick. And then zombie-walked away. Keys in the ignition.
Problem was, the cars left running were out of gas.
I didn’t hear a single car engine.
Wouldn’t. Not with the wind and rain.
“Let’s check them,” I said. “Be careful. They might not be empty.”
The street was ours. Zombies were not digging the rain one bit. Far as I was concerned, let it keep raining. It gave us time. We would be able to get further without having to hide from monsters anxious to devour our meat.
There were plenty of cars in the street. They were everywhere. Doors open on some, closed on others. They did congest the roads. Driving was still not going to be easy. I had no issue with riding on sidewalks and through lawns. “We want a truck, SUV. Something with four-by-four if possible,” I said.
Fuck beggars can’t be choosers. I wasn’t begging. I was particular.
We walked north down Mt. Read. It should be simple. Pick a truck, look for keys, check the fuel gage, go. It wasn’t. For whatever reason, there were few SUVs. The ones we came upon had keys but no gas, or no keys. We passed a couple of nice cars. I ignored the muttering and under the breath cussing when I declined said vehicles. It was something durable, or nothing.
“Chase,” Allison said, “let’s take a car. Get out of the rain. We can stop at SUVs along the way.”
I saw what I wanted. A Navigator. It was in the parking lot diagonal from Top’s. “That’s ours,” I said. “That one.”
We were walking in that direction anyway.
“It won’t have keys.” It was Dave or Josh. Didn’t matter.
“It’ll be out of gas if it has been running all this time.” Again, Josh or Dave.
The Kid sprinted ahead. Well, jogged. Either way, he was going to reach it first. He ran with that banged up arm clutched to his chest. Looked gimpy. I wanted to tell him to quit babying it, to suck it up and man up. Now wasn’t the time. I’d give him a few hours with the splint. But tonight, if he hadn’t changed the behavior, I’d lay into him. Might not be my business. It just annoyed the shit out of me.
He reached the Lincoln, pulled open the door. He turned to us, gave us a thumbs up. Must mean the keys were inside. Then he stuck his head in, and next his chest.
When his legs lifted off the ground, and kicked at air, I thought, Ah shit.
“Zombies,” Josh yelled.
We ran at the SUV. Our weapons drawn.
We stopped a few yards away as the Kid’s body fell out of the SUV. Splashed onto wet pavement.
Throat ripped open. Blood sprayed. Allison screamed. I almost slapped a hand over her mouth. My arms felt frozen where they were. Hands wrapped around the wood handle of my shovel. When she started to sob, and cry, I lunged forward. Long, quick, purposeful strides.
I knelt.
“Hey, Kid,” I said. I pushed the door shut. The thing was inside. It planted its face against the window. Bloody palm prints smeared the glass.
He tried to talk, but only gurgled sounds spilled from him. His eyes were open wide. Teeth covered in blood. Mouth filled with it. I smelled it. Copper. Death.
“Hey,” I said. No other words came to mind. I hoped it sounded soothing. Not shaky, and scared, like I felt. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve got all those supplies from Tops. Okay? Allison’s going to fix you right up.”
The Kid’s eyeball’s rolled up. Nothing but whites.
His body felt limp on my lap. Seen it in movies. Always hated it. Faced with it now, I understood. I laid my hand over his eyes and lowered his eyelids.
More peaceful, despite the chunk of flesh missing from his neck, the blood soaking into my work pants.
Gently, I lifted his head off my legs and onto the ground, into the red rainwater, and stood.
“Chase?”
“He’s gone,” I said to Allison.
She grabbed my arm. Her head hit my chest. Her body shook as she cried.
I should have comforted her. She needed that. Hell, I needed it. Instead, I pulled opened the back seat door and used my shovel like a spear. Didn’t look. Didn’t hesitate. I plunged it into the darkness. The spade sliced through meat. The thing didn’t cry out, didn’t moan, but it gurgled. It gasped.
I pulled back and drove the shovel into the SUV again and again, stabbing blindly. Each thrust hit home. It was like digging a hole. If the thing had been on the ground, I’d of stepped on the rest on the edge of the shovel and forced it through the beast using all of my weight.
I slammed the weapon repeatedly into the creature, strike after strike. As long as the spade made contact, I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop until Josh put a hand on my shoulder.
I turned on him. Rain blurred my vision. Heat filled my cheeks. I knew my skin was red, from being cold, and wet, and angry, and feeling guilty, and responsible, and arrogant. Because I wanted an SUV. Because a car wasn’t good enough. Because the Kid was dead, and it was my fault. All my fault.
Mine.
I spun around, reached into the back seat, grabbed onto a leg and yanked. The hacked up zombie toppled out of the vehicle, plopped down beside the Kid. I used my foot to kick the woman’s body over, and away from his. She didn’t deserve to be next to him.
“Okay,” I said, “everyone into the SUV.”
No one said a word.
No one moved.
“You want us to get into that thing?” Dave pointed at the black Navigator.
The rain came down even harder. Didn’t think it was possible. Felt like ice pelleting my skin. I looked down at Jason. The Kid. No. His name was Jason. Jason.
“Jason was killed in there,” Allison said. It was a whisper.
I shut the back seat door. Opened the driver’s door. Jason’s blood was on the leather. “Get in,” I said, ignoring protest.
“Chase,” Allison said, “I can’t.”
I looked her in the eyes. “You can. You will. This kid, he died. He died so we could have this stupid SUV I wanted. We’re taking it. We’ll find gas stations that are running and fill it up. It’s ours now. It’s ours because he . . . because I will not let his death be for nothing. I won’t. He didn’t die for you. It was for me. My fault. Mine. Now, get in.”
She stood there. I couldn’t tell if she was letting my words sink in, or working up the courage to climb in. Either way, it took her a minute. Almost two.
Allison understood. I saw it. It was in her eyes, when she couldn’t hold my stare. When they dropped, and she walked around the front of the Navigator and sat shotgun.
“Dave. Josh. It’s now, or it’s goodbye.”
I knew what they were thinking.
The thing had been in the backseat, and I’d hacked the shit out of her back there. “I’m not waiting,” I said.
Dave said, “Shit.”
Then he climbed in behind the driver’s seat.
“We’re getting your kids. And we’re going to Mexico?” Josh said.
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“Wake me when we get to North Carolina,” he said. He made a fist, held it out. I bumped mine into his.
Josh walked around the back of the truck, and climbed in sitting next to his brother.