“Get in!” The woman shouts as she hit the automatic locks.
Without a second thought, Greg opens the door and throws himself inside, aiming the weapon as he lands on his back in the seat. Screeching tires rip along the street, sending white smoke up from the asphalt. The momentum of the car slams the back door shut, leaving Greg panting as the woman speeds away from the mayhem.
“What was that?” she asks between breaths.
“Fucking hell, lady, I don’t know,” Greg says, still holding the weapon up as if he were ready to fire.
“Where do we go? Where do we go?!” she asks hysterically.
“Just drive,” he replies.
“We drove to the police station and told the cops what had happened,” he says. “The bastards didn’t believe us.” He shakes his head. “I wonder if they do now.” He raises his brow and lights another cigarette.
“So you say those things were already decomposed?” Johnny asks.
“They were worse than decomposed,” he says with a disgusted look. “The nasty things were like jelly. It’s hard to believe they were being held together at all.”
“That’s weird,” Johnny says. “Do you suppose that’s how this whole thing started?”
“I guess it’s possible,” Greg replies between the cigarette that hangs from his lips. “I mean, that’s a few days before the news reports started.”
“How did Scarlet and you wind up sticking together?”
“The cops held us for questioning, thinking we had something to do with what was going on.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor. “We were in jail when the shit hit the fan. Actually, we were lucky. If we hadn’t been held, I doubt we would be sitting here talking right now.”
“Yeah, it was pretty bad in the beginning,” Johnny says, staring blankly at the corpses outside.
“You’re not kidding,” Greg tosses the half smoked cigarette to the floor and grinds it out under his foot. “You didn’t just have to worry about those things - there were the gang riots, the looting and just plain old mass murder to contend with.” He leans back on the bench and looks up to the ceiling. “The living are a hell of a lot worse to deal with than the dead will ever be.”
Johnny nods in agreement.
“Listen, we’d better get some sleep,” Greg says. “We have to come up with some type of a plan tomorrow so we can get the hell out of here.”
“We’re leaving so soon?”
He points over to the busted open vending machines. “Well, we’re not going to be able to survive for very long on junk food and bottled water.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Johnny agrees.
Greg stands up, stretches his legs and pats him on the back. “Welcome to the apocalypse,” he says and returns to his bench in the corner.
Johnny sits on the floor with his back resting against the bench. His only view is the mass of bodies blurring out the world beyond. “Yeah, the apocalypse,” he quietly says to himself, “where waiting to die is the only entertainment.”
He curls up on the hard floor and closes his eyes, waiting for the nightmares to commence. He hums, letting the vibrations of his voice shake in his chest, “Summer Breeze…”
The children are rustling through the vending machines, gathering candy bars and bags of chips, along with crackers and packages of gum into neat piles.
“Do you know how to drive one” Scarlet asks.
“No, but how hard could it be?” Greg replies.
“He’s right,” Johnny chimes in. “There must be a lever or something to set the wheels on the track. I bet it would be just a matter of pressing the gas pedal and the thing should steer itself.”
“They have these flanged steel wheels that keep them on the tracks. When you lift them, you can drive off and take the truck anywhere you want,” Greg adds. “It should be pretty simple.”
“And if we’re lucky,” Johnny says through a cough, “we might be able to find one with an onboard fuel tank. They use them for refueling equipment on the go. I think they hold something like fifty gallons if there’s one out there that’s full.”
“It’s still risky,” Scarlet says, looking over at the children. “They should be our first priority.”
“It won’t be much of a priority if we die from starvation,” Greg says.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Scarlet says, nibbling at the inside of her mouth, in thought. “We’re going to have to pack up everything the kids can gather together from the vending machines just in case.”
“How are you feeling?” Greg asks Johnny, changing the subject.
“A little better,” he replies. “Not a hundred percent, but I think I can manage.”
“We won’t make our move until you are,” Scarlet says. “You need to get hydrated before we can be sure you’re better.”
“Yes ma’am!” Johnny says with a smile and a limp salute.
She points at him and purses her lips. “That’s right, don’t you go back talkin’ me,” she laughs. She turns her attention toward the kids. “How are you making out?”
Emma stacks the last package of potato chips onto the pile. “Good,” she says. “We were able to get all of it.”
“Yeah, and I found an extra can of Coke that was hiding in the back of the machine,” Billy says.
“Good, good,” she chuckles. “Get it all packed up into the duffle bags so we can take it with us when we go.” She pats Billy on the head and ruffles his hair as she passes and makes her way to the terminal doors.
She scans the yard and tries to imagine the rail truck. The idea Greg and Johnny came up with isn’t half bad, she thinks. If they can get through the dead, they’ll be home free.
She also imagines what might happen if they don’t. She winces at the thought.
“You know, we’re not expecting you to go until you’re ready,” Greg says. “It’s not like we don’t have time.”
“I know,” Johnny replies. “I’m honestly feeling better. Maybe we could get out of here in the next couple of days. Where were you planning to go?”
“The little girl came up with a pretty good idea,” he replies. “She was heading for the mountains.”
“What, up towards San Bernardino?” Johnny asks.
“No, I think she was going a little farther east than that,” Greg replies. “We’re thinking of getting to a more secluded area where the population was a bit more… sparse.”
“Sounds good to me,” Johnny says. “Anywhere other than here, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replies.
“I spy with my little eye…” Emma says, “…something red.”
“That’s not fair,” Billy frowns. “Everything outside is red.”
Emma giggles.
“Play nice, kids,” Scarlet says. “Can’t you find a game that is a little more… wholesome?”
“Oh, okay,” Emma says, disappointed. “New game!” she brightens.
“I get to pick this time, you picked the last one,” Billy jumps. “Um… let’s play thumb war!”
“I don’t want to play thumb war with you,” she shakes her head. “Your hands are too big.”
“Here, guys,” Johnny says, handing the children a pack of playing cards. “What you have to do,” he begins, kneeling down next to them, “is to throw the cards toward the trash can. Whoever gets one in gets a point. You can play for M&M’s.”
“Ooo! That’s a good one,” Billy says, grabbing the cards from Johnny. “I’ll go first.”
Emma rolls her eyes. “Okay, you go first.”
Johnny walks back toward Scarlet and Greg, sitting on one of the benches. “That should keep them busy for a while.”
“You’re pretty good,” Scarlet smiles. “Do you have any of your own?” She stops herself too late and looks to the floor, ashamed for bringing it up.
“No, we never had the opportunity,” he replies. “We talked about it though. We were so busy with our jobs that we didn’t get the chance.”
“You wou
ld have made a good father,” she gives a faint smile, curling her lips to the side and looks away.
“Thanks,” he shrugs. “Guess I’ll never know.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Scarlet corrects him. “We’re not done in for yet.”
“I meant with April.” He diverts his gaze toward the dead.
“Oh,” Scarlet replies, feeling worse than before.
“Man, you all sure know how to bring down a party.” Greg gives a quick shake of his head. “I think I’ll go into the bathroom and slit my wrists with the broken mirror to liven things up.”
Johnny laughs, “Smartass.”
Scarlet giggles along with the joke. “I’m going to go see how the kids are getting along.”
Johnny waves. “Don’t have too much fun,” he says, leaning farther back on the bench and crosses his legs at the ankles in front of him.
“So what do you think our chances are?” Greg asks.
“Slim to none,” he replies. “But it’s worth a shot.”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Greg says. “But it’d be nice to walk outside without worrying about becoming dinner.”
“Here,” Scarlet interrupts, handing Johnny a bottle of water. “Drink up.”
Johnny cracks the top and takes a long swig. “Thanks,” he says and places the cap on the bench. “We’re going to need to save some of that for the trip.”
“Don’t worry, we have plenty,” she replies. “Now keep drinking.”
He smiles and takes another drink. “Mm-mm-mm,” he says, grinning.
“That’s better.” She takes a seat next to him. “Now what are you boys talking about all quiet?”
“We were weighing our chance out there,” Greg says, motioning outside.
“Oh, that,” she says. “I wouldn’t worry. It should be fine as long as we don’t run out of gas.”
“Are you ready?” Greg asks, standing next to the door, his hand on the lever.
Johnny gives a quick nod. “Do you have the keys?
“Yep,” he replies.
“Then I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“All right, let’s go,” Greg says, pressing the lever.
A tight wind shifts with the pressure of the open door, wafting up the smell of rot in its wake.
“Damn,” Johnny turns his nose to the smell. “I’d like to burn every one of them just so I could smell something different.”
“Yeah,” Greg winces in agreement.
They run through the rear yard, hopping over the tracks and make their way to a garage and sets of sheds at the far side of the terminal, kicking up loose gravel as they go.
A heavy layer of dust clings to the door like the years of waste upon a tomb. Greg wipes away at the grime and begins the search for the appropriate key. He’s through half of the ring before he finds one that fits. With a subtle click, the mechanism disengages and the knob turns freely. He gives Johnny an expression of reserve before he finally pushes the door open.
A long, penetrating squeak ensues as the hinges protest in response. A narrow ray of light plays on the floor, spreading its sheen from an overhead skylight. Flecks of dust dance in the glow, moving with the current of air through the open door.
“This is it,” Greg says, eyeing the pickup truck, layered in time and neglect.
“The tank’s full,” Johnny says, tapping on the reserve in the bed of the truck.
“But the batteries are dead,” Greg says from the inside of the cab, switching on the ignition.
“How are we going to jump it?” Johnny asks.
“We might not have to,” he replies, nodding toward a shelf situated along the entry with four batteries neatly placed in a row.
“It’s our lucky day,” Johnny says with a smile.
“Don’t get too confident.” Greg pulls the hood release and moves up front to open the engine compartment. “They could be dead too.”
“I’ll stick my tongue on one side and you stick yours on the other. Then we’ll hold hands and see if we get a shock,” Johnny says.
Greg lets out a deep laugh and extends the hood brace, setting it in place. “Yeah that sounds like a plan,” he laughs again. “Hand me that wrench.”
“Hey, it worked on the farm.” Johnny kids and throws him the tool.
“You’re a farm boy, huh?”
“Indiana, born and raised,” Johnny replies.
“I’ll bet you would give your left arm to be back there right now,” he says, loosening the battery cables with the wrench.
“What would be the excitement in that?” he asks. “I’ve got everything I need out here in sunny California. There’s beautiful weather, sand, beaches, mountains to the east, and enough zombies…” he stops as he remembers his loss.
“What is it?” Greg asks as he pops his head up from under the hood.
“I just remembered why I was out here for so long,” he replies.
“Your girlfriend?” Greg asks.
“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have stayed if it weren’t for her.”
With nothing to say, no way to console him, Greg goes back to his work under the hood. The two remain silent for some time before Greg finally replies, “How did she look the last time you saw her?”
“Dead,” Johnny replies.
“Okay, did she look like she had been torn apart?”
“No, actually she looked exactly the way I remembered her looking when she was alive.”
“Well, there you go,” he says, heaving the battery out of the engine compartment. “She probably just passed away and turned without all of the other complications that usually go along with it. There’s a bit of beauty in that, you know? If I have to turn into one of those things, I would rather do it without being eaten alive.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Johnny remarks, “but it still doesn’t make me feel any better about it.”
“Listen, man,” he says, placing the battery on the floor. “I’m not good with this sort of thing. I have my opinions on life and death, but I’ve never been good consoling others. One thing I do know is that it’s the little things that that makes life worth living. You have to remember all the good times you had with her and try to forget the way it ended up. She loved you, right?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” he confirms. “I don’t have any doubt.”
“Then she wouldn’t want you to be miserable,” he says, picking up one of the batteries from the shelf. “I know shit looks pretty bleak right now, but the world has a way of working itself out. Call it the circle of life, if you want. But one way or another, the planet keeps on turning, life continues, and the rivers flow toward the ocean. No matter how bad things get, you have to remember that eventually, everything works itself out.”
“I don’t know if this is going to work itself out, Greg,” Johnny replies.
“Oh, sure it will,” he says, fastening the cables onto the battery. “Give it time. Somehow, some way, nature will right itself. I just hope I’m alive to see it.” He closes the hood and turns to Johnny. “Give her a try.”
Johnny takes a seat inside the truck and lets out a faint sigh. He touches the key and says a silent prayer. With a flick of his wrist, he hits the ignition. The engine cranks, turns over, and lopes for a few seconds before staggering into a low idle. He smiles and cocks his head out the door. “It worked!”
“See? Everything works itself out, but sometimes you have to give it a helping hand,” Greg replies. “Okay, turn it off and let’s go tell Scarlet.”
“Wait a minute, I want to check the radio,” he says, fiddling with the tuner. Static ensues, crackling out in waves as he adjusts the knob.
-Authorities are… hiss…-
“Shit, I found something,” Johnny says.
Greg runs around to the driver’s side and listens.
-…instructing people to stay in their homes. Keep doors and windows locked…-
Greg looks down in disappointment. “Same shit they were playing back when it all started.” H
e shakes his head. “You might as well turn it off and save the battery.”
“But that means the power is on somewhere,” Johnny says, “and it’s feeding the broadcast tower.”
“Kid, it’s probably just on a generator,” he says. “And it’s waiting to run out of fuel,” he says.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, but do generators have that much fuel?”
“They can,” he replies. “I’ve also seen some that are solar and wind powered. Trust me it’s nothing to get your hopes up about. If there was actually someone alive, they would be broadcasting something new.”
Johnny lowers his head. “At least we have transportation,” he says, brightening up.
“That’s a fact,” Greg says with a grin.
·18
“All right,” Scarlet says, “the bags are by the front door. We have enough for a few days if we’re not greedy.”
“Good,” Johnny replies. “We’re not going to be able to stop until we’re on the other side of Vegas.”
“We’ll have enough gas?” Scarlet asks.
“We should,” he says. “Both tanks are full and the one in the bed is too. That’s a little over eighty gallons in all. We have enough fuel to get halfway across the country if we need to.”
Scarlet grins from ear to ear. “Just think about it,” she begins. “In a week or so we could be taking a bath in some secluded river. For the love of God, a real bath,” she laughs.
Emma overhears the exchange and chimes in, “We’re leaving?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Scarlet replies. “We’re going into the mountains like you were going to do before you helped us. We’ll be leaving those things behind and living like regular people again.”
Emma smiles with a twinkle in her eye. “We can use my book to find different things to eat and we can sleep outside just like we’re camping,” she says excitedly.
“We sure can,” Johnny says. “So make sure you keep that book in a safe place in case we need it.”
“Oh, I will,” she nods. “I always have it in my backpack with my other books and take it with me wherever I go.”
Waiting to Die ~ A Zombie Novel Page 18