Mikki’s face lit up as she took the keys. Floyd pointed out the car key and came around to join her, sitting in the passenger seat for a change. Her heart was racing as she put the key in the ignition and fired up the engine.
Wow! She had heard Floyd start Freedom up a dozen times, but it never sounded so cool before. The engine was really powerful. She gunned it a couple of times while still in park.
Floyd sneezed and Mikki said, “Bless you.” She looked at all the controls, one at a time, muttering to herself aloud as she remembered what she had been taught years before.
She pushed down the brake pedal, shifted into drive, then removed her foot from the brake. Freedom started coasting forward slowly. She gently touched the gas and the huge truck lurched forward, so she got scared and yanked her foot off the gas. She screamed in delight and laughed at herself, both terrified and thrilled at the same time.
Mikki tried a couple more times, and the truck lurched and sputtered ahead each time. Eventually, she got the hang of it, and Freedom moved forward reasonably smoothly. Soon, she had it up to 40 miles per hour at a steady pace. Even at that slow a speed, the truck felt incredibly powerful. Floyd had her gently turn the wheel right and left to get the feel of it.
“Come on, give it some gas,” Floyd urged.
She pushed the pedal down further, and soon they were up to 80. There were no other cars for miles around, so she had the entire five-lane highway to herself. Finally, she got up the courage to jam her foot to the floor. Even at 80, the car bolted forward and she screamed at the top of her lings with delight. She was loving this!
“Come on, Floyd, crank up some tunes!”
Floyd scanned the frequencies but found nothing but static. “Nothing on the radio,” he said finally.
“Radio my ass! Pop in a CD.”
“CD?”
“Yeah, it’s got a CD player right there.”
Suddenly, Floyd felt like a total idiot. All this time, he had never noticed the slot above the radio player. He was always lost in thought when he was driving; thinking about where he was going, where he had been, what he had to do, etc. He always kept the radio on and scanned the AM and FM bands to try to find any sign of life. He had never even thought about a CD for music.
“I, uh, ain’t got no CDs, Mikki.” He coughed a little, and wiped his nose.
“Are you kiddin’ me? Well, we gotta fix that at the next town we come to. Hey, you know this one?”
She started singing (if you could call it that) the opening riff from Deep Purple, Smoke on the Water. Floyd smiled and soon they were singing it at the top of their lungs.
“Dun dun dun, dun dun da-dun. Dun dun dun, dun da-dun…”
When they came to the line, But some stupid with a flare gun burned the place to the ground, Floyd thought, Yup. If anyone would burn a place to the ground, it was Mikki.
Chapter Thirty
As Mikki kept driving, Floyd’s sneezing and coughing got worse. He was also looking pretty pale.
“Don’t you go dyin’ on me now, Floyd,” Mikki said, only half joking.
Floyd managed a weak little smile. He pulled out his medicine case as Mikki drove along, humming to herself. He pulled out a bottle of liquid cough medicine with codeine. Mikki grabbed it from him and looked at the label.
“Shit, Floyd, this is expired.” She stopped the truck and went through the rest of the medicine in the case. “Hell, all this shit’s expired!”
“Well, if you know of a place where we can pick up a fresh batch, let me know. Haven’t been any medicine factories for more than a year.”
“We need to get to a pharmacy someplace. Pick up whatever hit the shelves just before the creepers showed up. Might still be past the expiration date, but better than this shit.”
“At least aspirin lasts a while.”
Against Mikki’s protests, Floyd took a swig of the cough medicine straight from the bottle, screwed on the cap, and put it back. Mikki was genuinely worried.
“You sure that stuff won’t kill you? Medicine goes bad after a while like everything else, ya know?”
“Yes, I know. It’s almost gone now anyway. I just hope it gets me through this cold.”
“You sure you didn’t get bit?”
“If I had, you would have known long before now. No, I get this crud about this time every year. Just your everyday bad cold. Throat’s scratchy, eyes are itchy, and…” he let out a big sneeze into a tissue, “…and I sneeze a lot. I could use some chicken soup.”
“Hey, we got some!”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, picked some up last time we went shopping. What box did you put the food in?”
Mikki dug out the box Floyd described and fumbled around a bit. “Ah ha! Got it!” she cried. “Which one of these things pops the hood?”
Floyd pointed out the hood lock key and she put the can in the metal food-heater box near the engine. She grabbed an MRE while she was there. Beefy Mac. She called to Floyd to ask if he wanted something, but he declined. She tore open the corner of the MRE and sucked the food out of it as she drove along again.
Floyd really didn’t feel well and was dead tired. He drifted in and out of sleep, watching through half-open eyes as Mikki ate and drove and sang to herself. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having her around. If she didn’t get them both killed, she might actually be pretty helpful, once in a while.
Floyd was painfully aware of everything that was happening to his body. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He heard the blood rushing through his brain, he felt the snot dripping down the back of his nose into his throat. He kept swallowing and it hurt every time. He needed to just knock himself out with medication and relax for a couple of days, but they had no safe place to rest, other than the middle of the freeway.
His heart seemed to be pumping slower, and his blood seemed to be slowing down in his veins. Something was terribly wrong, but he didn’t want to tell Mikki. She’d either worry about him, or leave him in a ditch and steal his truck.
It seemed like the blood in his veins was getting…thicker. He was losing his ability to think and his eyes were getting really itchy. Then he started moaning. The last thing he remembered was looking in the mirror and seeing his skin the color of gray ash and a white film covering his eyes.
Mikki screamed and slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a halt. Floyd woke up, startled, as his body slammed forward against the seatbelt, due to the sudden stop. Mikki slapped him in the face.
“What the hell was that for?” he yelled, weakly.
“Damn, Floyd! All of a sudden you just started screamin’! And you looked all buggy-eyed! You OK now, or what?”
“Sorry! Sorry. I’m fine. Musta dozed off.”
“Damn, you really do have you some nasty dreams, dontcha?”
“I guess. Then I wake up and I don’t know what’s worse. My dreams or reality. Hard to tell the difference anymore.”
“Well, we’re safe in the truck. You said so yourself. You go back to sleep and dream about fluffy bunnies or some kinda shit for a change, will ya?”
“I’ll try. Although fluffy bunnies ain’t really my specialty”
Floyd curled up a best he could, trying to get comfortable with his seat belt on. He didn’t care about old seat belt laws—he just didn’t trust Mikki’s driving. Especially if she slammed on the brakes like that again.
He went to sleep and had another weird dream. He dreamed Mikki had one of those zombie kitties in her lap. She was petting it and talking to it and it was biting her gloved finger.
Of all the lousy, creepy-ass dreams! Floyd hated cats. Always had. The site of those zombie kitties in the pet shop had really screwed up his head. He prayed to God he would never see one of those damned things again, but he knew that was too much to hope for in this crazy world. Zombie bats, he could handle. Zombie rats? No big deal. Big-ass zombie dog jumping up to eat his face, piss on it! But a little kitty creeper just gave him the willies.
&nbs
p; Wait a minute, was he dreaming or not? “Mikki,” he said groggily, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Nothing!” she said nervously, “Why? You have another bad dream?”
“I don’t know, I thought I saw…hey, we’re stopped.”
“Yeah, sun’s coming up so I pulled over. You been out quite a while. I had to stop a couple times myself for a little power nap.” She laughed a little nervously. “You just go back to sleep, Floyd. Here, have some more of your medicine.” She handed him the medicine kit with her right hand.
“What’s in your left hand, Mikki?”
“What? Oh nothing’. Don’t you worry. You just go back to sleep, Floyd.”
Floyd leaned over and looked behind her. Goddammit! The missing zombie kitten was stuffed between Mikki and the door. He pulled his pistol and Mikki grabbed his arm.
“No! Don’t you hurt my baby!”
“Your what?”
“She’s my pet. She won’t hurt nothin’. Ain’t she cute?” She held up the undead kitty and Floyd jumped back in the cab, getting as far away as possible in the enclosed space.
“Ah!!! Get that diseased thing out of my face! I hate cats, Mikki! Live cats, dead cats, and especially undead cats!”
“Oh, come on, Floyd! Be a man! She’s perfectly safe. I pulled all her teeth out, see?”
“You pulled its teeth out?”
“Yeah, with my needle-nose pliers. That way she can’t bite me. She already had no claws, and it ain’t like it hurt her. She’s dead anyway.”
“OK! That’s it! You are officially, 100 percent, absolutely full-goose bozo batshit insane! You can’t keep a freakin’ brain-eater as a pet!”
“Why not? Think about it, Floyd. It’s the perfect pet! Don’t gotta feed it or clean up after it. It won’t shed its fur. Don’t got no fleas or nothin’. It’s perfect!”
“Perfect? That thing me-oans and it’ll give us away.”
“Me-oan?”
“That hideous little sound it makes. Cross between a meow and a moan. Like all brain-eaters. It’ll bring every undead thing around down on top of us!”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong! She won’t give us away. She don’t moan like that unless other creepers is around. She’s like an early warning device! I named her Cutie.”
“Cutie?! Name should be ‘Munch.’ Look at it! Left ear is mangled and half missing. It’s got a patch of skin and fur on the back of its neck gone. It’s disgusting.”
“She is munched, ain’t she? That’s what makes her so cute. Floyd, I ain’t never had a pet and I lost everything else I ever gave a damn about. Don’t you try to take her away, too! She’s my baby. Ain’t that right, Munchie!”
“Oh, I see. Of course, you lost everything you ever cared about. Fine! I get it!”
“Now what are you talking about, Floyd?”
Mikki was genuinely confused. Floyd didn’t want to change the subject and he didn’t want to get into that other issue right now, either. The truth was, though, he was really hurt that she didn’t seem to include him in the things she cared about.
Of course, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Mikki, either, especially with her holding that disgusting freak of nature in her hands. But at least he knew he did care about her.
“Wait, a minute!” he said, out of the blue as a thought struck him. “You said it has no fleas.”
“Yeah, so?
“Fleas! That must be it! Mikki, you never saw a human zombie bite an animal, have you?”
“No, I don’t reckon I have.”
“But we’ve seen undead animals bite humans, haven’t we?”
“Yeah, and try to bite us!”
“But there aren’t any more fleas around! Or ticks, or a lot of bugs that used to be everywhere. Fleas and ticks and mosquitoes need live people or animals with blood to feed off of. Not undead brain-eaters.”
“Yeah, you’re right. And their life span is pretty short, so when the people and animals died off, so did a lot of the bugs, and the birds that ate the bugs and other things like that.”
“Mikki, that’s how so many people got infected so fast! Rats travel through the sewers. Rats have fleas. People had pets in their homes. Pets had fleas. Mosquitoes are just flying needles that suck blood and bite and bite. But they’re all gone now. These things infected all the humans and animals around, but they weren’t infected themselves, so they died off. That also explains how those dogs you saw in the pet shop got infected in their cages without being bitten. They were bitten, Mikki, but not by other animals. They got bit by the fleas!”
“Damn, Floyd! I think you’re right! You have to be right. That’s the only answer that makes sense. Like that video we saw of Times Square fulla creepers. New York has tons of rats. And the fleas from rats is what caused the bubonic plague years ago in Europe. We did it! We solved the biggest mystery in the world! So can we keep her?”
“No!!!” Floyd screamed.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mikki hit the cruise control and drove along at 75 mph. Floyd was asleep again on the passenger side. Munch was curled up in a little ball next to her. It was a hell of a fight, but in the end Floyd gave up. Mikki said if he wanted her to get rid of the kitten, he would have to take it from her. The look on his face was hysterical. She didn’t know who Floyd was more afraid of, her or the cat.
It was the second day since they had left Groverstown, and Mikki had driven most of the way. She had really gotten the hang of driving the truck and she loved it. Looking up ahead, something didn’t seem quite right in the distance, so she slowed down.
“So you’re wearing a pony tail now?” Floyd asked, waking up when the truck stopped.
“Yeah. Fits better under my helmet this way.” She wasn’t wearing her helmet at the moment.
“Looks good.”
“Thanks, Floyd. That don’t look good, though.”
She passed the binoculars to Floyd. There was a makeshift roadblock of smashed cars and other debris piled on top of each other up ahead. Some kind of shanty town built right on the highway, complete with a watchtower. No doubt someone was watching them as they were watching the roadblock. There were signs of movement in the area.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Let me look at the maps. Best to go around if possible. I don’t like the looks of this.” Floyd handed the binocs back to Mikki, who took another look.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “Forget the maps, Floyd. Here comes the welcoming committee. And they are ug-ly!”
“Better do something with that damn cat!” Floyd warned.
Mikki grabbed Munch and threw her into a small nylon bag and closed the drawstring. Then she hung it on a hook above the back cab door intended for clothes hangers. They didn’t plan on picking up laundry from the dry cleaners anytime soon.
“And don’t let the cat out of the bag!” Floyd ordered. Mikki shot him a weird look until he realized what he had just said. “You know what I mean! Just drive! They’re getting closer.”
Mikki fired up the engine and spun Freedom around the best she could. She still didn’t quite have the hang of burning rubber or doing doughnuts. The truck had pretty good acceleration, but before she could get past 50 there were about six motorcycles and four tube-framed dune buggies around them. One of the dune buggies to the rear had a 50-caliber machinegun mounted on top.
The raiders didn’t have the greatest fashion sense. Each sported an odd assortment of piercings and tattoos. Floyd didn’t know you could put a safety pin in that part of your face. Whoever these guys were, they weren’t the local Shriner’s Club.
“Hey! It’s a girl!” One of the bike riders called out. “Hey, girlie! Pull over! We’ll give you a ride!” For some reason, he and his buddies found that remarkably funny and they all started laughing. He made some kind of gesture with his tongue that was probably intended to be sexual, but it just made him look even stupider (if such a thing was possible). Mikki was not amused.
“Remember those
defensive driving courses you said you took?” Floyd asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, the best defense is a good offense.”
“Got it.”
Mikki swerved quickly to the left and knocked over the nearest biker. He, in turn, knocked over the biker next to him.
“That reminds me,” Floyd said, “I gotta teach you how to play dominoes sometime. Fun game.”
“So’s this,” said Mikki. She swerved hard to the right but the bikers there were ready for her and dodged out of the way. Two more bikers started coming up on her left.
“Hey, Floyd. You know how they say to drive with both hands on the wheel?” Mikki asked, pushing the button to lower the driver’s window.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I got a new driving rule. One hand on the wheel, one finger in the air!” She stuck out her left arm and flipped off the riders. They didn’t appreciate the gesture and started shooting at the truck’s tires with pistols. Fortunately, Floyd had filled the tires with a special rubbery goo, so they wouldn’t go flat, no matter what he ran over.
“Damn, Floyd! When did this movie go from Dawn of the Dead to Mad Max?”
“Apparently, about two minutes ago.”
“Well, I got a new movie for these assholes. Armageddon!”
Mikki pulled the pin from a grenade with her teeth and spit it out onto the floor of the cab. Looking in the rearview mirror, she lined up the truck, kissed the grenade, and dropped it out the window. “With love from Floyd and Mikki!” she shouted.
The first two motorcycles dodged it easily, but they weren’t her target anyway. The buggy with the 50-cal ran right over it just as the grenade went off. It blew about three feet into the air when the gas tank exploded in a ball of flame. One of the motorcycle riders snapped his head around so fast to look at it that he lost control of the bike. It wobbled a bit, then crashed, flipping side over side until it skidded to a gruesome halt.
“Yeah!” Mikki screamed out the window. “Weebles wobble and they do fall down!”
She hit the gas and got it up to 70. Then she engaged the cruise control and put Floyd’s hand on the wheel. “Keep ‘er steady!” she shouted. Floyd wondered what the hell she was doing, but by now he knew better than to ask. He’d see soon enough.
Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!) Page 14