Dead Highways: Origins

by Richard Brown

  They were learning.

  Slowly.

  They saw what happened to their brothers and sisters, and were no longer so willing to come out in the open and give Ted a clear shot. Good thing too, cause he had to be running low on bullets.

  “We need to go soon,” Ted whispered to me. “I don’t have many shots left.”

  See. What did I say?

  I nodded. “Give him one more minute.”

  Diego was still in the ditch with Luna, devastated. The rest of us backed off, gave him some space, some time. There was nothing we could say to him that would help. Diego hadn’t only lost the love of his life; he lost the son or daughter she carried inside of her. He lost the vision of their future together, of being a husband and father, every last dream they had dared to dream. None of it mattered anymore. All of it—gone—snuffed out with her last breath, and now he was all that remained of what they shared, the sole holder of those memories, of those beautiful dreams, knowing they would never come true.

  “There’s some stuff in the trunk,” I said, looking over at my grandma’s wrecked Buick. The smoke had finally stopped coming out of the engine compartment. “Don’t want to forget about it.”

  Robinson followed me over to the car, waited as I popped open the trunk with one hand. I was still holding Olivia, who had fallen asleep on my shoulder.

  “Wow, that’s a lot more than I was expecting,” Robinson said, rummaging through some of the plastic bags. “This will work. Yeah, this will work good.”

  I shrugged. “Thanks. I can’t really take credit for it, really. Except the duffle bag.”

  Robinson looked over at his squad car parked near Ted’s Jeep. “Hmm.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just trying to figure out what we’re gonna do, space-wise.”

  “Isn’t there room in your trunk for all this stuff?”

  “Sure. But not for us.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Robinson waved Ted over.

  “How much farther we got to go?”

  “Not far at all. Three miles, maybe,” Ted replied. “Why you ask?”

  “I don’t think we’re gonna have enough room for everyone. Might have to make more than one trip.”

  “If that’s what it takes. How many we got?”

  I did a head count. Robinson, Ted, Peaches, Bowser, Aamod, Naima, Diego, Olivia, and myself.

  “Nine.” I said. “Right?”

  Ted nodded. “That’s what I got too.”

  “Don’t forget Jax, and when you add Luna, that makes eleven,” Robinson said.

  “I can fit three with me in the Jeep,” Ted said.

  I was a little confused. “Wait . . . we’re gonna take Luna?”

  “We should,” Robinson said. “Don’t wanna just leave her lying there in the ditch. We should at least bury her . . . have some kind of small funeral, for Diego’s sake. Problem is . . . we have to transport her somehow, lay her down in the backseat I guess. That’s why I was thinking we might be best off making more than one trip, so that we don’t have to be crowded on top of each other.”

  “I could take some people back to my house,” Ted said. “Drop ‘em off, then be back in a flash.”

  “Okay, good deal.”

  “Who you want me to take?”

  “Doesn’t really matter to me. Jimmy, you want to go?”

  I shook my head. “You should have the girls go, including Olivia here. Get them out of danger.”

  Robinson looked around. “I think most of the danger is gone now, at least that of the immediate variety, but I get what you’re saying.”

  “My house is pretty secluded,” Ted added. “Should be safe.”

  “Just to be sure, we’ll send Aamod along with the girls. He’ll keep an eye on them.” Robinson smirked. “And it’ll get him out of our hair for a bit.”

  “Good thinking,” I said.

  “Mind if I hold on to the rifle until you get back?” Robinson asked.

  “Sure thing.” Ted handed over the bolt-action rifle. “Ain’t got many shots left, though.”

  “Better than nothing.”

  We rounded up Aamod, Naima, and Peaches, and then told them the plan. I handed Olivia back to Peaches and then watched as the four of them loaded into Ted’s Jeep and took off down the road. After, Bowser and I transferred the bags from the trunk of the Buick to the trunk of the squad car, while Robinson kept an eye out for infected.

  “That guy’s a mess,” Bowser said.

  “Who?”

  Bowser nodded at Diego still lying grief-stricken in the ditch. “Who do you think?”

  I nodded. “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You said you had a girlfriend, right? And she was . . . well, like them?”

  “She was in a coma, yeah.”

  “So you must understand a little of how he’s feeling.”

  “I suppose.”

  I stopped putting the stuff in the trunk and met eyes with Bowser. “You ever been in love?”

  Bowser broke eye contact, thought about the question, then said, “No, not really.” He looked back over at Diego. “Not like that, anyway. I loved my mama. But that’s different.”

  “Interesting.” I began again stuffing the trunk with plastic bags. “So you didn’t love this girlfriend?”

  Bowser shrugged. “She was kind of a . . . temporary thing.”

  I smiled. “Did she know that?”

  “Nope. Never got a chance to tell her.”

  “Do you feel bad about it?”

  “I did a little at the time. But not anymore. That was last week. And last week was a whole different world. Can’t live in the past.”

  Robinson wandered, rifle in hand, over to Diego and somehow coerced him up and out of the ditch. He was saying something to him, but I was too far away to hear what. Diego, on the other hand, said nothing. His lips stayed closed.

  I turned back to Bowser. “No, I think if we could live in the past, we’d all be okay with that. The future doesn’t look so bright right now.”

  We finished loading the bags. Bowser slammed the trunk shut.

  “But if it makes you feel any better,” I said, “I’ve never been in love before either. Never even had a girlfriend.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Really.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Damn.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “But you’ve had sex?”

  “Well . . .”

  Bowser frowned. “You’ve never had sex?”

  “Can you say it any louder?”

  “Damn, man, not even with Peaches?”

  I shook my head.

  “I just figured—”

  “And I figured you would. But no, Peaches and I are just friends who met under unusual circumstances.”

  “She just seems attached to you.”

  “She trusts me, that’s all. I’m safe. We kissed last night. But beyond that, nothing is gonna happen.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Robinson left Diego and began walking toward us.

  I sighed, considered Bowser’s question, and then said, “Because nothing ever happens. Not to guys like me anyway. I’m the friend. The nice guy. I’m safe.”

  Robinson walked up and completed the triangle.

  “How’s he doing?” Bowser asked, referring to Diego pacing around in front of the ditch.

  “As expected,” Robinson replied. “I told him we’d take Luna with us. Give her a proper burial.”

  We all turned and watched Diego pace around. I couldn’t tell if he was crying anymore—he had his head down—but I certainly wouldn’t blame him if he were. Seeing him grieve brought my grandma back to the forefront of my mind. It hurt me to think of her out there all alone in this broken-down world, not knowing if she was okay. Was she wandering to the west with the rest of the infected? I hoped she’d find the peace she deserved. />
  Soon.

  I hoped she’d reunite with grandpa.

  She was no young lady, as Robinson had pointed out earlier in the morning, and for years, I wondered how many days she had left. Now that the moment had come, or was on its way, I found myself dealing with it better than I ever thought I would. The distraction of a deadly new world helped. It kept me focused. It gave me something to do, even if that something was constantly trying to stay alive. But the main reason—I wasn’t alone. The others around me, my small group of survivors, all lost people they cared about, too. Even Bowser, I was sure of it. Aamod had lost his wife. Naima lost her mother. Robinson probably lost his son. Olivia lost both her parents. And now Diego lost his fiancée.

  Who would be next?

  Could be any one of us.

  Could be me.

  And the strangest part was the thought didn’t scare me. That I could be next.

  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want to die. No way. I just wasn’t scared of dying anymore.

  In fact, I was more scared of living.

  Diego, the latest to suffer such loss, would deal with it in his own way, even if that meant kicking the corpses of the two people who had strangled his fiancée.

  “You gonna say something?” Bowser asked.

  “No,” Robinson replied. “He needs to get it out.”

  “He’s doing a good job of it,” I said.

  Diego stopped kicking the two dead men and looked back down into the ditch at Luna. Then he looked up at a young kid, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, sneaking around between two houses.

  “Hey!” Diego yelled. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?”

  “Robinson,” I said. “You seeing this?”

  Robinson answered by raising the bolt-action rifle and pointing it toward the young kid.

  I guess that was a yes.

  “Better answer me,” Diego continued yelling. “What do you think you’re staring at? Just go away.”

  “Diego . . . leave him alone,” Robinson said. “He’s infected. Don’t draw any unwanted attention.”

  Diego looked back at us. “How do you know he’s infected?”

  “You can tell.”

  Robinson was right. Even from a distance, you could tell. The infected didn’t lumber around like zombies, bitching and moaning because their faces were rotting off. No, picking them out wasn’t that easy, but they did have a certain mysterious way about them. It was most apparent in their eyes. You could tell they were always planning something, thinking ahead, even if it was just how best to kill you. Lastly, their silence, currently exhibited by this poor kid between the houses, was the final giveaway. That and they showed very little fear.

  The kid came a few steps further out.

  “Go away, you piece of shit!” Diego yelled. “Haven’t you done enough?”

  Suddenly, Robinson fired a shot toward the kid.

  “Crap,” I said, covering my ears more than a little too late. “Could have warned me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You missed him anyway,” Bowser said.

  “I wasn’t aiming at him.”

  “What were you aiming at then?”

  “It was a warning shot,” Robinson replied. “I’m hoping he’ll back up.”

  The kid took a few steps back.

  Diego stared into the ditch at the woman he was supposed to marry a few days ago, and again yelled, “Haven’t you done enough? Haven’t you . . . ?”

  “Ah, fuck. You guys stay here,” Robinson said, finally lowering the rifle. “I’ll go calm him down.”

  Robinson didn’t get halfway there before Diego climbed down across the ditch and took off in the direction of the young boy. Diego jogged along at a good pace despite his injured leg still giving him some problems. His adrenaline was surely maxed out. The young boy fled between the houses, out of sight.

  Robinson began chasing after them. Bowser and I reluctantly followed.

  We caught up to Robinson between the two houses. He wasn’t in the best of shape, and I had on my running shoes. We all stopped when we reached the back, looked around.

  Both yards.

  Swing set in one. Old, beaten-up doghouse in the other.

  But no sign of either of them.

  Robinson sighed. “Where’d they go?”

  Then a scream. And another. Coming from inside one of the houses. It sounded nothing like Diego.

  The back door was slightly ajar.

  We went inside, Robinson first, then Bowser and I.

  An unknown voice screamed, “No, please! Don’t!”

  My stomach went up into my throat. My hands were shaking so much I could barely hold on to Sally. I wasn’t afraid of being hurt. I was afraid Diego had made a horrible mistake.

  I followed the pair of black men through the house and into the kitchen, where we found the young boy lying flat on his back on the tile floor with Diego on top of him. The kid was no longer screaming. After Robinson and Bowser pulled Diego off and wrestled him away, it was obvious why.

  A knife protruded from the kid’s chest. Blood poured out of multiple holes.

  I stepped forward, in shock at what lay before me.

  The kid was still alive, gurgling up blood with each breath he managed to pull from his punctured lungs.

  He looked up at me, spit up more blood, and said, “Pl-please . . . hh-elp.”

  I stood, looking down at him, knowing there was nothing I could do to help him. Knowing he would die. Waiting for it to happen. He tried again to ask for my help but failed. He was fading.

  Seconds later, the kid went to take another breath, but didn’t have one left.

  Behind me, Robinson, Bowser, and Diego slowly stood up. I turned around and stared at Diego, as Robinson and Bowser both backed away from him.

  “He’s dead,” I finally whispered through parched lips. “He’s dead and you killed him.”

  “So . . . how many have you killed?” Diego snapped back. “They killed . . . they killed my love. My Luna.”

  “This kid didn’t kill anybody,” Robinson said.

  “This kid wasn’t even infected.” I looked back down at the dead body. I had to move my foot out of the way of the approaching blood. “He was like us.”

  Diego now stared down at the dead kid. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

  “He did,” Bowser said. “Didn’t you hear him screaming for help?”

  “That poor kid pled for his life,” Robinson added. “And then you took it.”

  Though my hands were still shaking, I managed to raise Sally. Pointed her at Diego. “You’re a murderer. This wasn’t self-defense. You killed an innocent person.”

  “Jimmy, lower the gun,” Robinson said.

  But I didn’t. I wouldn’t.

  “Do it,” Diego said, crumbling back to the tile floor. “Please just kill me.”

  Then he put his hands over his blood-speckled face and started sobbing again, as bad as when he’d found Luna dead in the ditch.

  Mixed in with the cries, he said, “Lo siento mucho.”

  I’m so sorry.

  And so was I.

  I dropped the gun on the floor and walked away.

  Chapter 37

  Ted was leaning against his green Jeep when I returned to the road.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I was wondering where you guys went.”

  “You couldn’t have been waiting long.”

  “No. Maybe a minute. Where are the others?”

  Just as the question left his mouth, the others appeared between the two houses. Diego was out front. Robinson and Bowser walked a little ways behind him. They stopped when they reached Luna’s body.

  “I’ll ride with you,” I said. “If that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  I got in the passenger seat of the Jeep.

  Ted walked over to the others in the ditch. I watched from the side mirror as they talked amongst themselves
for more than a minute. Robinson was probably explaining what happened. Where we went, as Ted had asked. Then Robinson and Ted left the ditch and stopped at the rear of the Jeep.

  “Need any help?” Ted asked.

  “No, the three of us can handle it,” Robinson said, walking away. “I’m gonna pull the car closer.”

  “Okay. We’ll wait.”

  Ted got in the driver’s seat of the Jeep, turned on the engine. Robinson pulled his squad car closer to the ditch, moved Jax to the front seat. Then the three of them picked up Luna, carried her to the car, and placed her in the back seat. Diego sat beside her, while Bowser got in the front with the shepherd.

  “Did they tell you?”

  Ted looked over at me. He had been watching them, too. “Tell me what?”

  Robinson whistled to get our attention. Gave his thumbs up.

  Ted pulled out and led the way to his house. “What were you gonna tell me?” he asked, when we were a mile down the road.

  Nothing.

  The same as the others.

  “Never mind,” I whispered. “It’s not important.”

  When we reached Ted’s house, I kind of wished we could drive around longer. It didn’t matter where. Just drive. I’d had my eyes shut the entire ride (which was no more than five minutes long), enjoying the sun and wind on my face, trying to push the reset button in my brain. Wanting to forget all I’d just seen.

  I hopped out of the Jeep and looked around. Ted wasn’t kidding about his house being secluded. There were no other houses in sight, just lots of empty land, much of it blanketed with tall trees. Ted’s property, however, was mostly flat earth with the occasional dirt hill. Wide open spaces. Five acres, if I had to make a guess.

  Once inside, I sat down in the living room and tried to relax. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes again, but it wasn’t the same. No wind. No sun. There was too much going on around me. Too many people. Ted’s house was rather small compared to the size of his property, but it was more than enough space for him.

  For the rest of us . . . not so much.

  Finally, I gave up, opened my eyes, and marveled in Ted’s bizarre choice of décor. His house was a prime example of what happens when a woman isn’t around to say no. There were animal heads on the walls, a deer and a hog, next to multiple gun racks. He had two sofas—one dark brown, the other light green. He had an old wooden coffee table with a scratched up piece of glass on top, rings where he didn’t use a coaster. Mounted over the fireplace was a giant swordfish. On the mantle, fishing trophies. Speaking of fish, on the opposite end of the room were two fish tanks that looked like they hadn’t ever been cleaned—the water was foggier than a haunted house. Yeah, it was just as I figured all along, Ted fit the stereotype of the quintessential outdoorsman. His house even smelled like bug spray.