by Chris Lowry
The woman fought free from the Z, sacrificing her coat as she sprinted down the driveway, chasing them.
“Please!” she shrieked again.
Emma stopped the truck.
“What are you doing?” Steve yelled.
“I don’t know!”
“Then go!” Bob shouted from the back. “Go!”
The woman used her toe on the bumper to vault the hood. She leaped from the hood to the roof of the SUV and clung to the top.
Steve reached up and pulled back the sunroof visor.
They could see her face peering down at them, glare etched onto her features.
“Go!” Bob screamed again.
“Hang on!” Emma shouted at the glass.
She dropped the truck into drive and crept forward through the Z on the street.
“Not exactly a high-speed chase,” Steve said as he sat up in the seat.
Emma was doing a good job of not hitting the Z head on but letting them bounce off the side or nudging them out of the way.
“I don’t want their guts clogging up the grill,” she gagged.
A minute later, the small group of zombies was behind them and Emma kept going.
She glanced up at the sunroof.
The woman was still there, clinging to the rack on top of the SUV, wind ruffling her grungy hair. She alternated between glaring at the road to see where they were going and glaring down into the car.
“What are we going to do about her?” Emma asked.
“Shake her off,” said Bob. “She tried to rob us.”
Emma shot a look at Steve.
“Should I?”
He shrugged.
“She did try to rob us,” he said.
“I don’t know if I can kill someone.”
“You wouldn’t be killing her,” said Bob. “You’d be leaving her on the side of the road, just like she was going to leave us.”
“It’s the same thing,” Emma said.
She gripped the wheel with both hands, sitting on the edge of the driver’s seat, knuckles white as she watched the road with fierce concentration.
“What do you want to do?” Steve asked. “Just let her ride up there while we figure it out?”
“What do you want to do? Let her in? We’re not letting her in,” said Bob. “She tried to kill us.”
“She tried to rob us, Knob.”
“It’s the same thing! You’ve got to be shitting me, right? Are you seriously considering this?”
“We could let her trade places with him,” said Steve.
Emma looked over at him and he wiggled his eyebrows. It made her smile, a moment of attempted levity in the aftermath of trauma.
She took a deep breath and let it out of her nose as she pulled to one side of the road.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s talk to her.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emma pulled to the side of the road and eased to a stop.
“You could have just stopped in the middle,” said Bob from the back seat. “You didn’t have to pull over.”
He motioned to the empty road in front of them and the empty road they left behind.
“No one’s coming,” he said. “It’s just us.”
“Forget it Knob,” Steve said.
“It’s just habit,” Emma defended.
“I’m just saying.”
Steve tapped on the window at the woman glaring down at them.
“We’re coming out, okay? Don’t shoot. You don’t shoot.”
She glared even harder, if that was possible.
“Look,” Steve continued. “I’m serious. If you’re going to shoot, we’re not coming out. We’ll just keep going.”
The woman raised the short barreled pistol, pressed it against the tempered glass and pulled the trigger four times.
The hammer clicked through the empty chambers as Steve and Emma ducked away.
“You could have just said so,” Steve said.
He opened the door and stepped out of the cab. Bob and Emma followed him as they spread out.
The woman slithered over the side of the SUV and dropped to her feet with a grunt.
“You didn’t stop,” her gaze swept over them.
“We stopped now,” said Emma.
“Besides, we were going slow,” Bob pointed out. “You didn’t fall off.”
The woman in front of them shifted from one foot to the other. She dropped the pistol in her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, okay,” she lifted one eyebrow and stared at them, waiting.
“Sorry about your friends,” Emma offered.
“They weren’t friends of mine,” she said, arms crossed even tighter. “I only knew them a couple of days.”
“They got what they deserved,” said Bob.
“Knob,” Steve shook his head.
“What? I’m just saying. They tried to rob us, and karma came back to bite them in the ass.”
“Zombies bit them in the ass,” the woman said.
Bob snickered.
“Yeah, I guess that’s right. Zombie karma is a bitch.”
“I don’t care,” said Emma. “I’m tired of watching people die. I’m sick of it.”
Steve shuffled next to her and put his arm around her shoulder.
“Where are you going?” the woman asked.
“We don’t know,” said Emma.
“This is happening so fast,” Steve said. “We’re just kind of reacting.”
“Army,” said Bob. “We were going to find the Army.”
The woman nodded.
“I heard about a place.”
“Uh-uh,” Bob shook his head. “No way. You’re not leading us into a trap.”
“It’s not a trap,” she shifted from one hip to the other. “We heard rumors about a refugee camp.”
“See,” said Steve. “I told you they would be setting stuff up.”
Emma studied the woman standing in front of them. The layers of grimy clothes, the thin face streaked with dirt, grit, lined with worry and an edge of fear.
She looked older than them, older still by the circumstances in which they found themselves, but only by a few years, she thought.
Tough to ask about age out here because it seemed like a question that didn’t matter.
It was a question that belonged to before, what she was beginning to think of as before the Z.
After, all that mattered was if the woman planned to take from them or help them to survive.
After was about surviving.
Emma took a breath and blew it out through her nose.
“Think you can show us?”
The woman nodded.
“Something first,” said Steve as he took a step closer.
Emma thought he was going to harass her. Maybe even hit her, which would not bode well for the start of their journey.
She worried for just a second, then felt guilty for even thinking it.
He held out his hand and smiled his best senior class president pumping for a vote impression.
“I’m Steve,” he said. “That’s Emma and Knob.”
“Knob?” the woman’s eyebrow shot up even further, if that was possible.
“Bob,” Bob grunted. “He’s being an asshole.”
“Is he good at it?” the woman shook Steve’s hand.
“Expert level ten,” Bob answered.
“I’m Tonya,” she let go of his hand and stood back. “But everyone calls me T.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
T sat in the back with Bob, who took the rear seat without complaint for once.
Emma slid behind the wheel and dropped it in gear.
“Which way?” she glanced in the rear view mirror and caught T’s dark eyes watching her in the reflection.
The woman shrugged.
“I said I heard about a place,” she explained. “I don’t know where it is.”
“No help at all,” Bob scoffed. “What did we let you in here for?”
“Bob,” said Emma.
“Sorry,” he settled back into his seat and sulked.
“He’s used to having the back seat to himself,” Steve said. “He doesn’t like sharing.”
“He needs a shower,” said T.
“I’ve been stuck in a house for three days,” Bob grumbled. “I haven’t had much time for personal hygiene.”
He took a short sniff and blew it out through is nose real quick.
“Besides,” he gagged. “You’re one to talk.”
“Okay we get it,” said Steve. “I stink. You stink. We all stink. Get over it. I think that’s what the end of the world smells like.”
“Like rancid B.O.”
“Bob,” Emma chided.
She dropped the car in gear and began pulling out onto the road.
A red low slung sports car zipped past, horn blaring as it raced by.
Emma pounded on the brakes, sending them all bouncing forward.
“Son of a bitch,” Bob breathed. “He came out of nowhere.”
They watched the car speed toward up the road on a small rise. It crested a hill and slid down the other side.
“I think he caught air on that,” said Bob.
Emma looked over her left shoulder to make sure the cost was clear before she pulled out again.
She pressed the gas and ratcheted the gauge up to forty.
“Don’t try to keep up with him,” Steve teased.
“That’s sweet,” she snapped. “You think it’s a guy.”
He gave a tight grin, but he was watching the road as they topped the rise and stared at the horizon.
The car was gone.
They went a half mile more when they saw skid marks. Two black tire tracks scarred the roadway, fishtailing in off angle curves before leading off the road.
“Speed kills,” said Steve as Emma stopped on the yellow double line.
“Is this a good idea?” asked Bob from the back.
“We should see if they need help,” she said.
“I mean parking in the middle of the road,” Bob said. “You saw how fast he was going.”
“We’ll be fine Bob,” said Emma.
But she scooted the truck over to the side of the road and pulled off on the shoulder.
She killed the engine and got out, tucking the keys in her pocket.
The others joined her as they looked both ways before crossing the road and stopped on the edge of the blacktop to stare at the macabre scene in front of them.
“Nice parking job,” said Steve.
The car was perched on two thick branches in a pine tree. The weight made it cant to the right, but so far, the branches were holding.
Smoke drifted from the hood and bottom of the car, while liquids and oil dripped onto the pine needle covered ground below.
“He parked it in a tree,” said Bob.
“Should have used the valet,” said T.
“Good one,” Steve told her as he checked around. “Should we call out?”
“Hey!” a guy crawled out of the open driver’s side window and sat on the door. “Hey, a little help here!”
“Stop yelling,” Steve hissed, waving his hands to shush the man. “They’ll hear you?”
“Who!” the guy screamed. “You’re the only ones around.”
“Oh shit,” Bob pointed to three shadows moving in the woods.
Their limping shapes flitted in and out of the trees as they shuffled toward the car in the tree.
“Hey!” the man shouted. “Get me out of here.”
“Any ideas?” Steve asked Bob.
“Yeah,” the curly haired boy said. “We go. Not our circus. Not our monkeys.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Emma.
“We shouldn’t have stopped,” said Bob. “He got himself into this mess, let him get out.”
“Hey come on,” said the guy as he noticed the zombies moving toward him. “They’re getting closer.”
“We don’t know how to help,” Emma called out.
“Get a rope?”
“We don’t have a rope.”
“Guess you don’t have a ladder either?”
“We forgot to pack one,” Steve answered.
“This guy is obviously an idiot,” Bob said under his breath. “I mean anyone who would drive like that now, don’t they deserve what they get?”
“You’ve never driven a fast car, have you Knob?”
“What does that have to do with anything.”
Steve shook his head.
“I can’t explain it to you, but if you had, you would know why he was going so fast.”
“He’s stupid,” Bob raised his voice. “Look where he ended up.”
“Hey,” the guy shouted. “I can hear you.”
Bob grunted and lowered his head.
“If we don’t have a way to get him down, he’s going to have to jump.”
“No good,” said Steve. “He’ll break his leg or ankle and then the Z will get him.”
“We can’t help,” said T.
“Bob can,” Emma said as she stared at Bob. “Can’t you?”
He glared at the toes on his shoes, color creeping up his cheeks.
“Do guys like that really deserve it?” he muttered almost to himself. “I mean, it’s like Darwin’s rule in action.”
“Bob,” Emma put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We’re not the kind of people who walk away.”
“I am,” he said. “I’m the kind of guy who walks away and lives. You know why? Cause I don’t do stupid shit. Like drive too fast or stop to help. And I saw we walk away.”
“You stopped to help me,” said T.
“We didn’t have a choice,” he growled. “You were on top of our truck. And you were trying to rob us.”
“He can’t help,” said Steve.
“He can,” Emma answered.
“A little help here?” the guy called out as the Z gathered at the base of the tree.
There were four so far, but more shadows moving in the trees told them three more were coming, and they weren’t aiming at the car. They were shuffling toward where the quartet stood between the burnt rubber marks on the blacktop.
“He doesn’t need our help,” Bob raised his voice. “He can get back in the car shut the hell up and the Z will go away after a little while. And we can just go away too.”
“Whatever we’re going to do needs to be done,” said T. “We’re getting outnumbered.”
“I’m going to help him,” said Emma.
She took a step off the blacktop and Bob reached out to grab her arm. He pulled her back.
“Just wait,” he sighed. “Just wait.”
He turned toward the guy in the car.
“Get back in,” he called out. “Move to the passenger side and buckle up.”
“What?”
“I can’t use words simpler than that,” Bob said. “Get in the car. Scoot over. Buckle up.”
The guy watched him for a moment, then stared down at the Z staring at his car.
Oil and coolant and water dripped down from the undercarriage and coated their upturned faces as they reached for the car twelve feet off the ground.
He shrugged, and they watched him disappear into the car.
Watched the outline of his shadow shift from the driver’s side to the passenger side and a miniature flurry of activity as he pulled on the seatbelt and secured it.
They watched as he half turned in the seat and glared through the tiny porthole passing as a rear window and held up a hand as if to ask, now what.
Steve supplied the words for him.