Generation Dead - 07

by Joseph Talluto

  “Company,” Jake said suddenly, looking ahead at the road. We had turned down Route 50 and were headed south.

  “Friendly?” I asked, looking to see for myself. I wouldn’t be put out if I couldn’t see them yet. Jake had eyes like a hawk’s, and could easily make out details of something most people could barely see.

  “Not sure. They just appeared over that small road that crosses the railroad tracks.”

  “Time to arm?” I started to reach back for my M1A when Jake stopped me.

  “Hang on. Let’s get a little closer and see what they do. Let’s make ourselves a little bit more tempting,” Jake said.

  “How?” I asked. Do you want me to dress like a female and blow them kisses as we go past?”

  “Not quite. Get down, below the dash, so they can’t see you. If they’re friendly, they’ll wish me the best and let me go. If they think we’re easy pickings, they’ll follow and look for a way to get me out of my vehicle or they’ll come up alongside and shoot me with something loud.”

  I had to admit it made sense in a weird kind of way. I guess that comes from always looking at the pessimistic side of things.

  I ducked down and kept a low profile, easing my M1A out from behind the seat. That was tricky but doable. I put the muzzle just out of sight under the window and waited. Jake opened the back window and drove on, seemingly blissful in his ignorance of human intentions.

  I had no way of knowing what was happening outside, but Jake kept me up to date.

  “Okay, we’re passing them now. Hey guys!” Jake threw a wave at them, partly to check their intentions and partly to keep their attention focused on him and not on what might be in the cab of the truck, namely me.

  “Nothing so far, looks to be two of them in a decent-sized truck. Staying on the side road. Whoops, here they come.” Jake kept an eye on the road and an eye on his mirrors.

  “Coming up behind right now, staying close. Think they’re checking things out, seeing if it’s worth the trouble. Their rig is as nice as ours, can’t see why they’d want to hijack this one.” Jake looked into the rear-view and raised his head, acknowledging the truck behind him.

  “Staying back there. Passenger is doing something, wait a second. He’s waving me to pull over. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” Jake smiled big and waved back, acting as if he was just too dumb to understand sign language.

  “Okay, they’re talking to each other. Passenger is reaching for something. Oh, boy. He just waved a big gun at me and wants me to pull over.” Jake looked down at me. “They’re directly behind me. Go for it.”

  I popped up suddenly, sticking the barrel of the rifle out the back window, aiming directly at the windshield of the truck behind us. I could see the passenger holding up what looked like a revolver, but my aim was more to the center. I fired once, and the heavy bullet punched through the windshield, leaving a large hole and several cracks behind. The rear window didn’t fare so well, completely shattering and falling into the bed of the truck.

  The two men, boys really, now that I got a look at them, got huge in the eyes and their mouths dropped open. I could see both of them shouting “Jesus!” and the truck suddenly slewed to the left, slamming the passenger into the side window as the pickup careened away. The driver must have stomped on the gas, because the truck raced up the railroad incline, launched itself several feet in the air, and came down in a cloud of dust on the other side of the tracks. Even at our distance, I could hear crashes and clangs as the truck tried to extract itself from the railroad.

  I settled back into the seat, the M1A resting between my legs. Jake looked at me and I looked back at him. We both burst out laughing, and it got so bad that Jake had to pull over and we just held our sides and laughed ourselves silly.

  “Oh, my God! Did you see that guy’s face plastered to the side window?” Jake laughed.

  I redoubled my laughter. “Not as good as the two faces when I aimed at them. Never saw eyes so big!”

  We laughed for another five minutes, and then began to settle down. Jake looked back and wondered out loud. “Wonder if they managed to get those tracks out of their butts.”

  “Let them be. They deserve a little discomfort, and maybe next time they’ll think twice before trying to rob someone else,” I said, putting my rifle back.

  “If they don’t , they’re the slowest learners around,” Jake said, checking the rear view again.

  “Let’s get going. I’d like to be in Peotone before evening comes,” I said.

  “Me, too.”

  We drove south on Illinois 50, and slowly made our way through the small town of Monee. Monee looked like it had been a one light town even back in the day, and it hadn’t improved much in the last twenty five years. The main road had a couple of businesses on it, and the railroad tracks cut through the center of town, albeit in a trench thirty feet deep.

  On the west side of town, the interstate connected to it, and we could see two hotels, a huge truck stop, and a few restaurants. Everything was collapsing and rusting, with dozens of abandoned cars and trucks.

  Jake turned towards the truck stop, and I held up a hand.

  “Whoa! What are you doing? This isn’t the way to Peotone,” I protested.

  “Just want to have a look around,” Jake said. “Relax. Peotone’s just five miles south. Besides, maybe there’s something we can use at the truck stop.”

  “I’m thinking it’s a bad idea,” I said, believing it completely. “We’ve had pretty good luck so far, why push it?”

  Jake just smiled, and I knew I was not going to win this fight. I’d have had a better chance if I was driving, but since I wasn’t, I’d just have to go along until Jake got his fill of whatever he was looking for, or I managed to get the keys off of him.

  Chapter 18

  We drove past a trucking company, and there were dozens of empty trailers all over the place. A semi had run into the side of a dozen or so parked ones, and had literally cut several in half before coming to a stop in the middle of three of them. A skeletal head hung out of the driver’s window, its empty sockets staring at the cloudless sky.

  The next block had a bunch of houses, but they had all been broken into, some with doors completely ripped off the hinges, others with broken windows. Several of the homes had trees and shrubs growing out of the center of them, and here and there, we could see furtive movement, as if animals darted about.

  On the other side of the street was a strip mall and an auction house, but both had been burned long ago. Blackened beams and studs reached up like charred fingers, a final plea to a God that had turned His back on the world.

  Past the two restaurants, which dad used to call ‘fast-food places’, we reached the truck stop. The place was a disaster. It was literally two hundred feet from the highway, and that proximity had killed it. There was a line of crashed and rusting cars stretching from the gas station to the highway, and several cars had smashed into each other, jamming up the works and damning those who were trapped. Dad used to say it was the strangest part of the whole ordeal. People would stay with their cars, when safety was just a few hundred feet away. All they had to do was abandon their cars. For some, that was just too much.

  We got out of the truck and slowly made our way across the sea of cars and bones. A couple of cars had zombies in them, and they slowly watched us walk past. Jake wandered over to one of them, and using his mace, smashed in the window. When the zombie leaned out, Jake cracked it in the head, killing it.

  “That was effective,” Jake said, looking around for another one. When he didn’t see one nearby, he gave it up and headed back towards the truck stop building. I followed at a distance, checking the area, making sure we weren’t being followed. I don’t know why, but my alarms were going off, and I didn’t see anything to warrant it. That was when things usually got pretty bad.

  Jake ducked under the collapsed awning of the gas islands and re-emerged a second later.

  “This way is blocked,”
He said tightly.

  “Car?”

  “Bodies.” Jake moved away and went around to the side of the building. I was tempted to go take a look, but considering Jake was disturbed by what he saw, then I really didn’t want to look. Two things affected Jake that way. One was the bodies of little children, and the other was anything that indicated a child might have suffered. I could ask Jake why these things bothered him, but the truth be known, he didn’t know himself. It was just the way it was.

  We rounded the corner and made our way to the next doorway. This one had ‘SHOWERS’ written on it in faded letters, and when Jake opened the door, he quickly stepped aside to let anything in there that wanted out to get out without finding him in the way. The little courtesies mattered these days. It also kept you from getting a face full of bats or bugs.

  Jake pulled out his flashlight and gave it a shake. The light came on after a bit, and he looked around before stepping inside. I took out my own light and followed. The interior of the truck stop was musty and damp, with a unique black mold coming out of the restroom area. Jake was careful not to disturb it, and I did the same. You learned as a kid not to touch the stuff, since you would be hacking your lungs out for a day if you breathed any of it in. One of our friends actually died from it. He coughed black crap for days before finally choking to death.

  The interior was nothing but piles and piles of junk. Cowboy hats and belt buckles were scattered about, and NASCAR toys were in abundance. Anything that might have been useful was long gone, but Jake did manage to find a set of ruby-eyed skull valve caps for our tires. That in itself almost made the trip worthwhile.

  I hunted around the tools section, and came up with a torque wrench and an Allen wrench set. We could sell this stuff at a nearby town, since tools were always in demand.

  “Oh, my,” Jake said. I looked over at him and whistled. Under a display case, Jake had found a full carton of Marlboro cigarettes. We had seen them only briefly in our lives, but we knew what they were. Cigarettes manufactured before the zombies rising became scarcer and scarcer. As the years went by, some communities had even used them as currency before the move to precious metals. What Jake was holding was easily worth a gold piece a pack, if not more.

  “That was luck,” I said, hoping I could find something to compare. I didn’t have much hope, but you never knew.

  “No kidding. We could forget this whole trip, head back now and be done with the job, just tell them that the house burned to the ground or something,” Jake said, casting a sidelong look at me.

  “Tempting, but we can’t. You know that,” I said.

  Jake sighed. “Yeah, I know. ‘Your word and your honor are the two things that separate you from the savages. Keep them well and you will walk among men.’ I get it.”

  That phrase had been drilled into our heads from an early age. Dad believed it with all his heart, and it kept us from going back to the beasts we once were.

  We poked around a little more, but found little of any value. There were some light kits, but no one needed those. Under a pile of toiletries, I found a box labeled ‘Trojans’. I held them up to Jake.

  “Any thoughts as to what these are for?” I asked.

  Jake shrugged. “Anything named after a dead civilization can’t be healthy for you.”

  I tossed it and we made our way to the back door, Jake holding his prize like it was his baby. I felt a little putout, since Jake had the big score, but the trip was still young, and I might get to even things up later.

  We skirted the mold again and Jake went out the back door first. I followed and immediately bumped into Jake’s back.

  “What the…? Oh.” The parking lot, which had been empty when we entered the truck stop, had suddenly sprouted about a dozen zombies of various shapes and sizes.

  Chapter 19

  “Got your sword?” Jake asked, putting down the cigarettes and gripping his mace with both hands.

  “Back at the truck,” I said, pulling out my knife and tomahawk.

  “Good place for it.”

  “You’re the one who had to come over here for a look-see.”

  “Blaming is not productive.”

  I snickered. “Especially when you’re to blame, hey?”

  “You’re learning.” Jake tensed, and I knew he was about to move. “On the left.”

  I looked and saw a little zombie moving fast. I hated the little things. They nearly killed us years ago and had actually managed to kill my uncle. They were fast, for whatever reason, and they were nasty. These little bastards caused ninety percent of outbreaks. The virus that caused the zombies effected kids differently. They were faster, smarter, and much more difficult to kill. Sometimes they even stalked you, which was unnerving. Once Jake actually had to chase one and kill it, which took a lot out of him.

  “Got it.” I waited for a second to figure out the little girl’s trajectory, and moved quickly, timing the swing of my tomahawk with its rush. The axe head slammed into the girl’s forehead, wrenching her off her feet and dumping her on the ground. I kept going, zeroing in on an older zombie that reached out towards me. I batted aside the arms and jammed my knife under its chin, poking the tip out of the top of its greasy head. As it fell, the knife got stuck, so I left it there, going after the next one with just my axe.

  This one was dressed well for a zombie. It wore what might have been a tuxedo, complete with wilted brown flower in its lapel. I jumped forward, kicking it in the chest, and knocked it into another zombie dressed in a similar fashion. As I killed the two of them by spiking their heads, I wondered briefly if we hadn’t somehow crashed a zombie wedding. If the bride showed up, I would know for sure.

  A brief glance showed Jake was doing well by himself, changing things up here and there by jumping in the air before smashing their heads in. I watched him as he jumped up, knocked over a zombie, then stood on its helpless form as he killed another, then swung down quickly to kill the zombie struggling beneath him.

  The last two on my side used to be women, and they wore identical dresses. That reinforced the notion that there must have been a wedding nearby. I personally had never seen a wedding that involved more than six people, but I had seen pictures of some pretty lavish affairs.

  These two were pretty gross, and I had to be creative killing them, since they came right at me side by side. I ducked under the arms of the one on the left, giving her a shove as she went by, knocking her into her companion. Usually that worked, but somehow the second stayed on her feet and came right after me. I had to jog a little ways away and kill her with a blow to the top of her head. The other one was just getting to her feet, but I didn’t give her a chance, I just slammed the ‘hawk across her head and killed her for good.

  Jake was finished with his side, polishing off another tuxedo zombie. I cleaned my axe and retrieved my knife, pulling it out of the zombie’s head with a wet, sucking sound. I used some kerosene to burn off the virus, and did the same with my tomahawk.

  “Think I killed a bride and groom over here,” Jake said. Sure enough, a zombie in a dirty white dress was slumped over a tipped garbage can.

  “I got the rest of the wedding party, then,” I said. “And the flower girl. Wonder what happened to cause all this at once?” I asked.

  Jake looked over the parking lot. “I’d say a mess of zombies attacked a wedding reception at the hotel, and since the group had nowhere to run, they all died together.”

  I looked at Jake. That was pretty detailed, and Jake wasn’t known for his imagination. “How do you figure? Maybe they were on their way to a reception and someone turned in the limo.”

  “Oh, I’d say the fifty or so nicely dressed zombies coming out of the hotel is a pretty good clue,” Jake said, pointing with his mace.

  I looked, and sure enough, they were coming out of the hotel, lurching, stumbling, and dragging themselves in our general direction. They looked pretty bad, being dead for so long, but they were no less deadly for it.

  “I thi
nk I’ll skip the buffet this time,” I said, putting my weapons away.

  “Right behind you.”

  We bolted for the truck, hoping there weren’t any fast ones to cut us off. We knew when there was a time to fight, and a time to run, and this definitely qualified as a time to run. The entire reception turned as one to follow our flight, and if we had been trapped into a fight, it would have been the end. No matter what the braggarts said, unless the conditions were ridiculously in your favor, you will lose to a horde of zombies. Dad never really talked about his exploits, but others had, and I always figured them to be ninety percent exaggeration.

  Jumping in the truck, we sped away, racing back towards Route 50. About halfway there, Jake slammed on the brakes, cursing.

  “Dammit!” he yelled.

  “What? What’s the problem?” I looked for an animal or something that might have run out in front of us.

  “I left the cigarettes behind.” Jake checked his rear view mirror, and then looked around, possibly checking for a place to turn around.

  I held out my hand. “No fucking way are we going back for the damn cigarettes.”

  Jake ignored me, and I finally put my hand on the wheel. “No, Jake.”

  Jake looked over at me. “That’s money we’re just leaving behind.”

  I returned the look. “Better that than our lives. Where’s your head?”

  Jake looked ruefully at his mirrors.

  “Could we check back later? Maybe when the zombies have wandered off?”

  “No!”

  “Fine.” Jake stepped on the gas again and we found Route 50 again. Heading south, we didn’t say much until we were a mile or two out of Monee.

  “I wasn’t really going back,” Jake said.

  “Uh, huh.”

  “Really.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  Jake was silent for a bit. “Okay, maybe I was. But I didn’t.”

  I looked over at Jake. “You mean, you weren’t going to be able to.”

  Jake looked back. “What?”