The Longest Road (Book 1)

by Thompson, A. S.

  “Collin, you better step on it,” Billy shouted. “I think the hose is still in the tanker!”

  They heard it before they felt it. The gas continued pouring, making its way to the fire and igniting. Flames ran up the garden hose and into the belly of the truck, triggering the gigantic bomb.

  The station and the front of the town exploded like something out of a Hollywood movie. Flames burst from the tanker and fireballs sprayed every direction. The undead that were still moving were either instantly fried or thrown about. The flames engulfed the RV for a brief second before subsiding. The force was so great that it picked up the RV and threw it to the side a few feet. Collin quickly regained control and got back on course. Had they been any closer to the station, the blast would have surely tipped them over. Somehow, they still had a little bit of luck.

  In his mirror, Steve saw bodies fall from the sky and into the ravine to the right. Cars were blasted over the railing, and the earth scorched behind them. In the back of the RV, there was none of the usual laughter or celebration, just silence. Mike had managed to find the joint he had stashed in his pocket, but sat in silence, staring at it and twirling it between his fingers. Alex and Billy hadn’t even gone for a bottle to celebrate; they sat just as zoned out as Mike, shell-shocked.

  It began to drizzle, and minutes later they found themselves in the midst of a downpour. The rain washed away the flames and wreckage of the town, but not the fear and anxiety in their heads. Barrel City had been a saving grace, but also a terrifying wake up call. They had come face-to-face with death, and barely escaped. Again.

  1240 hours

  A few miles up the mountain, Collin pulled off the main highway and stopped the RV on the rough, gravel-covered shoulder. The RV was like a stew, saturated with emotions. The cousins were exhausted. They were depressed. They were hurt inside and out. Soon, their battle-scarred souls would callous and they would return to normal. Time. They needed time.

  After a few moments of awkward silence, Collin exited without saying a word. He walked toward the river and stopped near a metal sign that read, Lookout Point. He leaned against the metal divider and stared into the water.

  Steve followed soon after, but gave his obviously perturbed cousin some space. “Collin, what’s the matter?” Steve asked, approaching slowly.

  Collin stared at the fast-moving river and shook his head. “This is fucked.”

  “What? What’s fucked?”

  “This. Life. All of it! I mean, what the hell are we really doing? Who are we kidding?”

  “What are you talking about, man?” Steve replied, understanding where Collin was coming from but trying to keep him positive. “We’re surviving. A few close calls here and there, but we’re alive, aren’t we?”

  “Fuckin’ A, Steve. What’s the point? The world’s fucking dead, and here we are traipsing on like it’s some magical Hollywood-type fucking movie where we’re all going to be happy in the end! How long have we been on the road now and not even heard the slightest bit of reassurance? No cure. No help. No bright future.”

  Steve tried to interrupt, but Collin continued to rant.

  “Sure, there are a few people like us, surviving. But for what? We’re all just living on the same old shitty, borrowed time.” He kicked the metal divider in frustration. “We’re all just waiting for the inevitable end. The same end, the one that ends with a bullet in the head, whether we eventually off ourselves or we turn into one of those undead fucks and someone does it for us—”

  “But what about the government?” Steve asked, finally seeing an opportunity to cut in. “You said it yourself, someone has to be alive. Someone has to be planning some sort of an offensive, right?”

  “Oh shit, the government… I’m gonna level with you, cuz. The only thing the government is planning is what entrée goes best with their mojitos. I’ll bet Fort-fucking-Knox the suits are holed up in some bunker, riding out the storm in comfort. They did a bang-up job covering their own asses. So what the fuck are we really doing? Life’s fucking unfair.”

  Hearing Collin’s rant outside, Alex, Billy, and Mike opened the side door and piled out slowly.

  Billy walked over first, blowing hot air in his hands. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Everything is fucking A-Okay,” Collin replied, turning and facing the river again.

  “What the fuck is with the attitude, Collin?” questioned Billy.

  Collin didn’t turn to answer.

  Noticing Billy’s temper build, Steve cut in. “Nothing, Bill. We’re all a little tensed up right now—”

  “You’re damn fucking right we’re tensed up right now! Shit, we just barely got out of that damn town with our lives! Look at us now! What, thirty rounds left for all of us? Food’s running low! No idea where in the hell we’re headed. But it’s okay, ’cause we have a full tank of gas for now! I’m tired of this shit, man. We’ve been on the road for forever, driving to who-knows-where. I’m tired and fucking drained, man. I just want to post up somewhere and live out the rest of my days in peace!”

  “What the fuck do you want from me, Bill?” Collin retorted.

  “I don’t know, cuz, but I’m getting over you leading us on your wild fucking trip. I mean, it’s no secret you’ve had this crazy idea that if we drive west long enough, we just might find help, or some damn sanctuary or something. I know you were in the military, man, but come on. Do you really think the government has some camp set up? We know the East Coast is fucked, and for all we know, those reports about the West being safe are bogus.”

  Collin threw up his hands. “What would you have me do then, man? Just go up to the hills and hide out in a cave like what you want to do?”

  Fire burned in Billy’s eyes after Collin’s last comment. By this point, both cousins were at each other’s throats. One more word, one more insult would surely send the two into a rage-fueled brawl. Billy acted first by shoving Collin.

  “Fuck you, Collin!”

  “Oh yeah? Fuck you, Bill!” Collin yelled, pushing Billy back even harder.

  “You wanna throw down?”

  “Throw the first swing, asshole!”

  Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He jumped between the two, breaking them up by himself.

  “Enough, guys! Cut this shit out. We don’t need it! Billy, we all want the same thing. None of us like traveling on the road, town after town, just getting by. We all want to live a normal life again, but we don’t have that option. I mean, shit, if it wasn’t for Collin, where the hell would we be right now? Probably dead, or one of them. How many times has he saved our asses? I don’t see any of us stepping in to make the decisions he’s made. He’s the only one strategizing and trying to figure shit out. Like it or not, he’s kept us alive. And I don’t know about you, but alive is sure as hell a lot better than the alternative. I mean, for fuck’s sake. We’re family, guys. We’ve survived because we look out for each other, because we want to. But Collin, we are all tired and worn out. I’m pretty sure everyone here would like to relax somewhere and not worry about watch duty or covering our asses when we go out to take a piss. Billy is right. We’re low on food, and even worse on ammo. We sure as hell can’t take another fight like that. We need a solid plan, and we need to get off the road. It’s killing us.”

  After his speech, Steve was breathing like a chain-smoker running a marathon. The others stood stunned. None had ever heard or seen Steve act like that, ever. Even before this, he had been one of the most carefree and easy-going guys any of them had known.

  “Steve’s right. Plus, I don’t know how many more cans of tuna and pears I can eat,” Alex joked, clearly trying to diffuse some of the tension.

  “Yeah, I second that. I’m fucking beat,” Mike added.

  Collin and Billy both calmed down and looked at the pavement. Neither eyed the other. They were still fired up, but had regained some composure. They, too, knew Steve was right.

  “You guys are better than this. Now shake hands. You’re f
amily,” Steve ordered.

  Reluctant at first, both leaned in and shook hands, apologizing for their harsh words and aggression.

  “Sorry, Cully. I’m just wound like a fucking top right now,” Billy said truthfully.

  “Me, too, cuz. My bad. I lost my head.”

  Billy went inside to clear his thoughts, and Mike and Alex accompanied him. Steve stayed behind with Collin, and both stared into the river, now glistening, as a few of the sun’s rays broke through the cloud coverage.

  Collin picked up a nearby rock and threw it in the river. “Thanks," he said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For stepping in. I think Billy wanted to fight, and let’s be honest, he’d probably kick my ass.”

  “No way, man. Bill’s on tilt—we all are—but I don’t think he would have thrown a swing.”

  “Yeah, maybe not. But thanks for talking me up and saying those things. You didn’t have to.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s true, man. If we didn’t have you, the guys would probably have locked themselves in a mall or strip club somewhere eating Buffalo wings and drinking themselves to death. You are our leader, and you are doing a great job. Don’t doubt yourself.”

  “I don’t feel like a leader, but thanks, Steve-O. It means a lot.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Steve said, throwing in a rock of his own.

  Collin gave Steve a shoulder-nudge and smiled. The exchange brought some sense of life back.

  “Okay,” Collin said. “So what do we do now? A magazine of ammo apiece, maybe? Some food, but you know how fast that goes. And gas for a couple days, three tops, depending on conditions.”

  “We do what we said. If we don’t find anything north, then we head west. We try to find supplies along the way, but we sure as hell have to avoid any major towns. But most importantly, we survive.”

  “All right, well, good luck to us, I guess.”

  “Have a little more faith in yourself, man. Have faith in us.”

  They all gathered inside the RV around the table and collectively planned their next and most crucial step. Mike finished his joint and pulled out the map from his pocket. Alex brought over a bottle of whiskey and poured a round for everyone, including an extra shot for Billy, who made sure to remind Alex about the lost bet.

  “All right, well, how far north do we go?” Mike asked, starting the discussion.

  “I say no further than Salt Lake City. Last thing we need is to get lost in some backwoods road and run out of gas or freeze to death or some shit,” Alex said, drawing a dark, horizontal line north of the city.

  “Well, we definitely don’t want to go through Salt Lake City. I mean, we haven’t heard anything about infection, but we can’t risk it,” Collin added.

  Billy spun the map around to face him. “True, but we can probably get away with driving on a main highway up to there. Once we get close, we should take back roads just as a precaution, though.”

  “Okay, so it’s settled. We head north and hopefully find something. But if there’s nothing by Salt Lake City, then we head west to Cali,” Steve declared.

  They all agreed, cheering with their glasses of whiskey. The alcohol burned, but calmed them down. The group discussion seemed to revitalize them, and morale resurfaced. Each had some input and respected one another. The room felt brighter.

  They had a plan. They had the drive. All they needed was a little more luck.

  Too Close for Comfort

  April 5, 2009

  1621 hours

  “Damn,” Collin cursed, lowering his binoculars.

  Safe on a bluff overlooking the city, the group surveyed the wasteland. The Salt Lake City region had been devastated beyond anything they had seen thus far. Undead infested the tight cluster of cities below, crawling like cockroaches. The infected were everywhere, dragging their limbs and stumbling through the streets. Commercial and apartment buildings were peppered with bullet holes. Stores had been looted and ransacked. Smoke rose from isolated fires, while abandoned cars and other debris made the streets look like obstacle courses.

  It had taken two very cold and rainy days to get to the Three Peaks Observation Point, a camping site in the foothills to the southwest of Salt Lake County. Four hours after departing Barrel City, Sweet Tooth had reached the first major city, Jasper Canyon. As Billy had suggested, they had stuck to highways lining the outskirts. Using the Utah map as their guide, the cousins had pressed on.

  They had taken rarely used roads and mountain paths when they could, but the closer they had drawn to Salt Lake City, the more difficult it had become. With no city crews alive to plow snow, many back roads had become impassible. Others had been blocked by fallen trees, rock slides, or traffic jams of abandoned cars. Each hurdle had forced multiple time-consuming backtracks. To make matters worse, constant cloud coverage had killed the solar panels. The rolling hills and altitude changes had forced Sweetie to use more gas than they had expected, which put them on the wrong side of a quarter tank. At the rate they had been driving, that meant only a couple hours more.

  “So what’s the game plan, Collin?” Alex asked, spitting over the edge of the bluff.

  “I think we’re screwed,” Collin said dryly.

  Steve gave Collin a slight nudge to the ribs. “Cully. Positivity man, remember?”

  “No, I mean I think we’re going to have to go through the city. Well, not all the way through, but we’re going to have to enter it,” Collin responded.

  “Through that death trap?” Alex asked, pointing down to the city. “Fuck me, are you serious? Why can’t we go around like we’ve been doing?”

  “We don’t have the fuel,” Collin said dismally.

  “He’s right, guys. We’re going to have to power through,” Billy declared after looking through the binoculars himself.

  “Bring me over the map, will ya?” Collin asked, motioning to Mike. “I want to check something.”

  After Mike handed him the map, he leaned against a nearby picnic bench, looking it over. The others took turns with the binoculars and nervously concurred.

  “I thought I saw a sign for it,” Collin said, tapping a small dot on the map. “Fort Kennedy. It’s about fifty miles to the west of the city. There might be supplies or some survivors. And I know, Billy, it’s assuming there are still people there.”

  Billy walked back over to check it for himself. “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

  “I think it’s our only shot,” Steve said, looking over Billy’s broad shoulders.

  “Okay, but in all seriousness, can we eat? Because I’m starving,” Mike said, holding both hands to his stomach.

  Collin patted his own belly, mocking his cousin. Using his best baby-talk voice, he responded, “Mikey, is your tummy hurting?”

  The others couldn’t help but laugh at Mike’s expense.

  “Come on guys, I said ‘in all seriousness!’” Mike protested. He hated it when they ganged up on him.

  “I’m only kidding, bro. All right, you guys know the drill. Let’s do this before it gets dark,” Collin said, getting up to delegate tasks.

  Alex and Billy scouted out the area while Steve and Collin gathered some wood and started a fire. Mike emptied eight cans of chicken noodle soup into a pot, then set it carefully on the embers.

  “When it’s ready, everyone eat ‘til you feel like throwing up,” Collin said seriously. “I want your stomachs full so your minds are too. I want you thinking straight, ’cause what we are about to plan is going to need our complete focus.”

  1650 hours

  Mike took Collin’s order a little too seriously and ate enough for two people; by the end of the meal, he was one dry heave away from hurling up the chicken, noodles, and veggies. Billy and Alex’s gag noises didn’t help, either.

  After the early dinner, the cousins reconvened at the bluff.

  “I want solid recon,” Collin said. “When someone thinks they have a route, I want someone else to tell my why it’s a ba
d idea.”

  From their vantage point, they could make out most of the closest city. Together, they toggled between the binoculars and a city road map Alex had scored from an information kiosk. They searched for the best passage through the city that would lead them to Utah State Route 201, which would take them westward to Fort Kennedy. After fifteen minutes of scouting the roads and debating scenarios, they agreed on a route.

  “So this is the best way,” Collin said, referring to the pencil marks etched on the road map.

  “It will keep us as far away from the city’s center as possible,” Steve agreed.

  “Yeah, and as we all saw, most of the freeways leaving the city were blocked, so side streets and alleys are our best shot.”

  “And don’t forget about these sky scrapers and buildings here and here,” Billy said, pointing to three sections to the north of their proposed route. “The more inward we head, the more unpredictable it becomes. Too many unknowns and too many variables. I don’t think anyone here has Superman’s X-ray vision…”

  The outlook was bleak, but bleak was as good as it was going to get. Every road had its problems, but they chose the most manageable ones they could see. Only one blind spot presented a problem, a road on the last leg of their proposed route, but it was a risk they knew they had to take.

  Alex was the first to get up from the picnic table, leaning back to stretch his sore limbs. “So much for rule numero uno,” he said plainly.

  They were about to break their golden rule of avoiding major cities, but they had no choice. Fort Kennedy sat over a hill to the West, but before that, they would have to drive through a very dangerous, very infected city. Everyone knew the risks, and everyone knew that even the slightest mistake or misfortune would mean certain death.

  1833 hours