Forget The Zombies (Book 2): Forget Texas

by Spears, R. J.

  “Go, Carla,” Joni said. “Get on the truck.”

  Powerful, almost irresistible forces pulled at Carla, nearly tearing her apart. The desperate need to survive versus the love for her mother. Each of these warred within her, and it must have been agonizing, but in the end, survival won out, and she broke and ran for the back of the truck.

  “Freda, this is your last chance,” Joni said. “We don’t want leave you here.”

  The sounds of screams and gunshots filtered on the air from the south. I could see refugees and zombies alike cutting the gap between the camp and us. Either one getting to us meant trouble. We only had so many seats on the truck and if we got swamped by refugees, there was a good chance we’d never make it out of there alive.

  Freda crossed her arms and refused to answer.

  “That settles it,” Joni said and climbed into the cab and shut the door.

  “Everybody, get back on the truck,” I yelled and they all took that as a call to leave.

  Freda left us no other choice as she sat in the road with arms crossed in obstinate defiance of logic and reason, refusing even to look at us at all. I shook my head and got into the truck and found Joni behind the wheel.

  “You can drive this thing?” I asked not wanting to discuss what just happened.

  “I can drive anything,” she said and hit the gas. Even though I was tempted to check the rearview mirror, I resisted the urge. I wondered if Carla looked?

  We drove for good half hour in silence, the horrible sounds for the death and carnage of the camp echoing in our minds. Initially, we had no clear direction, other than north. Our only other decision was to stay off the interstate highways. Those would most likely be clogged with cars if our past experience was worth anything.

  After nearly an hour on the road, we had seen almost no one as we traveled along. At least no one living. We did see a lone zombie on a number of occasions and small packs more than once. It seemed that there was some herd mentality going on deep down inside them. Whenever they could congregate, they would. It was when they were in these groups that they were at their deadliest, so we did our best to avoid the packs.

  “Dallas should be coming up our right pretty soon,” Joni said.

  “It’s your state,” I said. “You know it better than me.”

  “I’m a transplant,” she said. “My husband’s company transferred us here from Poughkeepsie three years ago.”

  “Oh,” was all I said. I was the real conversationist.

  “I didn’t want the transfer, but what could you do in this economy? A job’s a golden commodity. You want to know the truth?” She paused for a moment, the wind whipping through her hair. “I hate this state.”

  “Me, too.”

  She laughed a little and then so did I. The tension of escaping the camp had weighed down on us like a boulder. A little of it lifted, but our night was far from over.

  “Thanks for what you did back there,” she said. “You saved a lot of lives, you know.”

  I just shrugged, then said, “I didn’t expect what you did with Freda.”

  “I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “We had just lost Mack. Bill was dead. Hundreds of refugees were dying behind us and she just couldn’t get past it. I couldn’t take losing someone else because of her stupidity, but I hated leaving her there. I considered busting her upside the head and dragging her back onto the truck, but we’d face it again.”

  “Most likely,” I said.

  We drove in silence for another few minutes and I closed my eyes, just resting them. I let myself drift down to a lower state of consciousness for a few minutes and I found myself in a dream. In it, I was in a forest. Initially it was very serene with birds chirping and animals walking about, unafraid of my presence. My soul seemed at peace as I walked along. The forest reminded me of the ones I had roamed in as a kid in northern Wisconsin, thick with tall and lush pines. The rich smell of the pine needles permeated the air, fresh and clean. I made my way deeper into the woods, but as I did, I noticed that animals seemed to be more aware of me, and maybe even afraid. The blue sky above me slowly shifted from blue to dark gray. The animals transitioned from wary to something more sinister as if they may be stalking me. Their eyes burned like embers in the shadows and their teeth shone in a predatory way. The fecund sent of the pines was replaced by something that put me on edge. It smelled like wood smoke. The animals started slowly moving out of the shadows. Hunks of their skin and fur were missing and their teeth were bared. They looked at me hungrily. I wanted to run, but my feet refused to move as if I were stuck in quicksand. I frantically looked for some escape as they closed in on me and then I heard a voice — someone calling my name.

  It called to me several times and became more insistent. Then something clasped onto my arm and I jerked awake. Joni clutched my arm like a small vice.

  “Oh my God,” Joni said, slowing down the truck down and looking past me to the east. When I turned my head in that direction I saw that the sky blazed with a fierce orange glow. A giant inferno filled the night sky off in the distance. The fire seemed to spread for a hundred miles, its flames leaping into the air like angry tentacles lashing the night sky.

  “They burned Dallas,” she said.

  Several gasps came from the back of the truck. Everything from our crazy escape from San Antonio rushed back over me. The zombies, the firebombs, the narrow escapes. The people we lost.

  I was too stunned for rational thought for several seconds. No one else spoke a word either as we slowly moved along the state road, headed north, with all eyes locked on the flames to our west. The inferno looked alive, the flames leaping into the sky like streamers. The fire encompassed miles and miles and I could swear I could feel its heat even though we were miles away, but that could have been a trick of the mind.

  What brought me out of it was the soft, wet thud of the truck colliding with something. Joni slammed on the brakes and I nearly went through the windshield. Startled cries came from the back of the truck.

  “Oh my God, Grant, I hit someone.”

  “It could have been a cow or something running spooked from the fire,” I said.

  “No, I looked up at the last second and saw someone,” she said, holding her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “That’s it lying down the road.” She pointed out the window and down the road. There was a body lying just off the shoulder, not moving.

  “Let me get out and look,” I said opening the door and climbing down onto the road. My legs had stiffened from the ride and it took me a moment to make them work the way I had intended. Rigidly, I walked around the front of the truck and down the road toward the body, my heart thudding in my chest. I could tell it was a woman because of the floral dress she was wearing.

  It wasn’t until I got within five feet of it that the picture became clear. The body was now moving, slowly, like a crab, pulling itself around in a slow circle. When it fully got spun around, I could see its gray fathomless eyes looking up at me. The problem with its turn was the fact that its legs stayed in a position pointing back toward the truck. The collision had smashed its hip and legs to a pulp. That did not prevent it from wanting at us. Its hunger was unstoppable with the exception of shutting off its brain — which I did with a bullet.

  Shooting it was probably a mistake and something I really should have thought through but I was barely awake after coming out of my power nap.

  When I started to return to the truck, I saw silhouettes against the blaze to the west. Hundreds and hundreds of them shambling across the back country away from the fire. While zombies had little brain power, they knew enough to respect fire and were doing whatever they could to get away from the firestorm that used to be Dallas.

  The truck had probably gotten their attention and my gunshot was like a dinner bell, letting them know that a movable feast was in the area. I scanned the horizon and saw several of the silhouettes making course corrections on direct paths away from the fire and starting towards th
e truck.

  Three undead uglies stepped in the road between me and the truck and shone brightly in the truck’s headlights. They stood for couple seconds, caught in indecision, not able to choose what attracted them more, the truck or me. The truck had shiny things called lights that really caught their attention, but me, on the other hand, stood there warm and tasty. They chose me.

  I started toward the truck at a fast walk, but took an oblique angle hoping to outmaneuver the zombies. I was a little afraid to leave the road due to the darkness and what could be out there waiting on me. The zombies cut me off before I could make it to the truck, so it looked like I was going to have to ring the dinner bell a few more times.

  I took aim at the closest one, a guy wearing a pizza delivery uniform and missing several bitefuls of cheek and shot him in the forehead. He went down like a sack of concrete, but his two buddies were undeterred. I shot both of them and started towards the truck when I heard something smashing through the underbrush just off the road.

  I stopped in my tracks, waiting for whatever it was, my gun aimed into a grouping of bushes. The noise got increasingly louder and almost before I could react, a longhorn steer, complete with a massive expanse of two very sharp looking horns bore down on me with a wild look in his eyes. At the tip of his right horn was a piece of white cloth stained with blood and what looked like part of human rib cage. It seems I wasn’t the thing's first rodeo of the night.

  Crazed with fear it ran at me and at the last possible instant, I dove to the left and rolled across the asphalt, tearing away copious amounts of skin from my elbows and knees. The beast’s shadow passed over me and from my perspective it looked as big as an aircraft carrier as it blotted out the stars. An aircraft carrier with fur, hooves, and horns. I braced myself for a return engagement, but it wanted nothing more to do with me as it tore off the road and into the darkness of the backcountry.

  I pulled myself up to my feet, rubbed my elbows for a moment and scanned the horizon again. There were still many silhouettes coming our way, drawn in by the light of the truck and my shots. It was time to put some miles between us and them.

  I jogged back to the truck and climbed back into the cab.

  “You okay?” Joni asked.

  “Just drive,” I said.

  So she did.

  Anymore zombies encountered in the road unceremoniously met the grill of the truck in a brutal, but efficient manner. I don’t think Joni winced once as she rolled over them, either.

  We weren’t making the greatest time because Joni couldn’t get up to maximum speed due to all the abandoned cars in the road. At one point, she had to ride with one set of wheels on the shoulder and one on the soft packed ground just off the highway. It left us all canted at an angle that made no one in the truck very confident, but we never tipped over and I knew the traffic clogs had to be worse on the interstates.

  We got past a large mass of cars when Joni said, “Grant, we’re going to need to get gas soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “We’ll be on fumes in less than fifty miles.”

  “Where’s the place we might find some?”

  “Check the map,” she said.

  I had found a map under the seat. It was stained with blood, but was still readable.

  “We’ve got a town coming up,” I said as I traced my finger along the map to the next town. “We should be able to get some gas there.”

  “If there’s any left,” she said.

  “Yeah, there’s that,” I said.

  We drove in silence until Sammy poked his head through the canvas at the back of the cab. “We got some people who need to make a pit stop,” he said.

  “We have to stop soon for gas,” I said.

  “Okay, I’ll let them know,” Sammy said and ducked in the back again.

  We crossed under a four lane highway and came to an exit ramp. I hoped we’d be able to find fuel and get back on the road quickly. Joni took the ramp and we saw a road block about a quarter of a mile down the road.

  “Slow down, Joni,” I said as I tried to discern what was ahead.

  She complied and cut our speed down to below twenty miles per hour. One of the cars was a police vehicle, but two were large civilian trucks.

  Jay popped his head through the canvas and said, “Why are we slowing down? I gotta take a dump.”

  “We’ll take that under advisement,” I said. “Right now, we have a roadblock with what looks like to be the police and some of the locals. Everyone looks armed.”

  Jay’s eyes got wide and he said, “Oh shit,” and ducked back behind the canvas.

  A spotlight blasted into the cab like a metal spike into my eyes. It was coming from the cop car. I was nearly blinded and Joni had to be the same as she brought the truck to a complete stop. I heard some commotion behind me and someone shouted something I couldn’t make out. The voices sounded angry or alarmed about something, but I felt like I had bigger problems with what lie ahead of us.

  An amplified voice filled the air, “Hold your vehicle there.” The voice was coming from the vicinity of the cop car.

  The amplified voice shouted again, “Hey, hey, keep everyone in your vehicle.”

  I had no idea what was going on. His spotlight and its intensity forced me to close my eyes. I poked my head out the passenger window and looked to the back of the truck hoping to see what was happening behind us but Sugar Plum fairies could have been dancing a jig back there for all I could see after being blinded. I thought I heard the sound of feet running, though.

  A gunshot broke the night and I jerked my head back toward the roadblock.

  “Stop where you are or we will be forced to shoot,” the voice boomed.

  Or we will be forced to shoot? Hadn’t they already done that?

  This was about to get ugly. I opened my door and stepped out onto the running board and held my hands into the air. “Hey, hey,” I shouted trying to get their attention. “We’re all good here. You don’t need to shot anyone.”

  “Tell your people to get back into the truck,” the voice commanded.

  “Can you get that spotlight out of our eyes?” I shouted.

  A few seconds later the spotlight dipped down to the road, but my eyes still danced with brilliant white spots.

  “Everyone,” I shouted, “stay in the truck.”

  “Do you have any weapons?” The voice asked.

  Now, how the hell was I supposed to answer that? I thought.

  “Yes,” I said.

  There was a long pause. “How many?”

  It was my time to pause. I didn’t want to tip our hand, but I had no idea how many guns were pointed at us. If I lied, then we could be in big trouble. If I told the truth, it could be equally bad. I decided somewhere in the middle was the best route to go.

  “Enough,” I shouted.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Whoever was asking the questions paused for a moment and came back with another one. “Did the people that ran from your truck have any weapons?”

  “Listen, I have no idea about people running from our truck and I’m tired of shouting. So, I’m coming to you. I’ll be unarmed and my hands will be up. Try your best not to shoot me.” I know being a smart ass isn’t the best tact in these situations, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “Grant, you sure this is a good idea?” Joni asked.

  “No,” I said. “But I don’t see any other play.”

  Sammy’s head came through the canvas from the back. “What’s going on?”

  “We have an unknown number of well-armed people blocking the road in front of us. I think at least some of them are cops.”

  “Why don’t we just back out and make a run for it?” Sammy asked.

  “Well, that’s an idea, but I don’t think this truck will be able to outrun their cars and we really only have a couple shooters with you, Randell, Jay, and Huck.”

  “Jay and Huck made a run for it. Jane went with them.”

  “What?”
r />   “Yeah, they just took off. They looked scared.”

  “Did they take any guns?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think Huck did. Maybe Jane, too.”

  Our conversation got cut short when the voice spoke up again and, this time, it sounded a little pissed. “What’s going on there? I thought you were coming to us?”

  I stuck my head out the door and shouted, “I’m leaving in thirty seconds.” I pulled my head back inside and said, “I’m going down to them to see what’s up. If they shoot me down, then try like hell to get out of here. If I sense any problems with these people, I’ll use a code word or phrase.” I took a moment to think. “I’ll say, ‘It’s as safe as the lake.’” In our escape from San Antonio, we had taken refuge in a shallow lake to avoid being burnt to a crisp when the military dropped firebombs on the city. “If you hear me say that, then run.” I looked back at the roadblock and pulled my gun out, leaving it on the seat. “I’d better go.”

  Joni put and hand on my arm and squeezed it. “Be safe, Grant.”

  “I’ll try.” I got out of the truck and started down the road with every fiber of my being telling this was a bad idea, but there I was. They popped the spotlight on me again, so I had to look down at the road as I walked to prevent from being blinded again. A spot dead center on my chest tingled awaiting the shot that would end my days on the earth, but it didn’t come. At least not right then and there.

  I made it to within twenty feet of the roadblock when the voice spoke up again, “That’s far enough.”

  I stopped.

  “Turn around for us so we can check you over.”

  I did as commanded, spinning in a circle. I wondered if they have me do the hokey-pokey next?

  “What do you guys want?” I asked.

  “We just need to know you aren’t a group of banditos coming to town,” the voice said.

  Banditos? Really?

  “Well, we’re not,” I said.

  “We’ll be the judge of that. I want you to slowly come forward. Keep your hands up.”

  Since I was already in for a pinch, I might as well be in for a pound and walked forward as instructed. I got to within five feet of the closest truck when he shouted for me to stop again. Two guys with guns came out from behind the truck and patted me down. They seem satisfied that I was unarmed, but one of them grabbed me and jerked me back behind the barrier while the other covered me. There were at least three other men there and all of them had guns.