Highway To Hell (Dying Days Book 1)

by Armand Rosamilia

  Becca shrugged. “I get bored and I eat more than I need to some days.”

  “It doesn’t show,” Randy said. He meant it. She wasn’t a raving beauty, she’d never make the cover of Maxim or Playboy, but she was very sexy. Her skin was pale and smooth, her dark hair flowing down her back. She had pretty deep brown eyes and a cute little wrinkle of a nose. She must’ve known last night was his first time, because she went from the initial crazy-sex-fuck-me-fuck-me-hard-boy to a gentle hand that guided him along and into her body. He didn’t last long the first time but the second was a bit longer, then the nap, then the third time was even longer, than exhaustion set in.

  “Did you, um, continue after I was asleep?” he asked uneasily.

  Becca snorted pancakes back onto her plate. “Of course. I haven’t had sex in way too long.”

  “Glad to be of service. More coffee?”

  “Sure.” She held up her cup. “What do you want to do today?”

  Randy shrugged. “I’d like to catch an Orioles game while I’m in town.”

  “In town? You mean you’re not staying?”

  He feigned a shocked look. “I thought I was a one night stand. Have sex, have coffee, and get out.”

  Becca leaned over and kissed him. “I hope you like me enough to stay.”

  Randy pretended to think about it for a minute, tapping his finger on his brow and staring up at the sky. “I’m still thinking…”

  She punched him playfully. “I wish we could watch a movie, something romantic.”

  “Electricity would be nice.”

  “I wonder how we can get some.”

  “A generator might do the trick.”

  Becca sipped her coffee and grimaced. “A proper coffeemaker would be the first order of business.”

  “I agree. This is awful, but beggars can’t be choosers.” Randy finished his in a last gulp. “Is there a hardware store around here?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not too familiar with the area. I know within sight of my binoculars there doesn’t seem to be.” Becca pulled the binoculars from their case near the wall and handed them to Randy. “Be my guest. You might have better luck than me.”

  He went to the edge of the patio, trying to keep from trampling the tomatoes. “I assumed you were from around here.”

  “Nope.” She came up behind him and put her arms around his neck. “I was born in Austria.”

  Randy smirked. “Somehow I think you’re playing with me.”

  Becca licked his ear. “I can be from anywhere I want to be from, what does it matter? I can have any name I want, since most of them are available.”

  Randy turned and faced her. “My name is Randy Jackson. I was born in Long Island, New York almost twenty-two years ago. My dad was ten years older than my mom. We moved to Sandusky, Ohio when I was seven to be closer to my dad’s family and because he got a new job. He died when I was seventeen of cancer. My mom worked in the library around the corner from my house.”

  Becca took all of the information in silently. “Randy Jackson? Like the dude from American Idol?”

  Randy laughed and shook his head. “Twenty plus years ago, who even knew that dawg? No, I was actually named for the lead singer/guitarist from Zebra.”

  Becca shrugged her shoulders.

  “Zebra, the great rock band from Long Island.” Despite his age Randy was a huge fan of Classic Rock bands.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Randy started singing Tell Me What You Want but Becca was non-plussed. Undeterred, he broke into a medley of Zebra songs, trying vainly to hit the high notes.

  “Never heard one of those songs.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I can be any age I want to be, remember?”

  Randy waved her off with mock disgust and put the binoculars to his eyes. To the northwest was smoke from Baltimore, obscuring the view. Below them on the abandoned highway nothing stirred. He stepped to his right and looked due east. “Ah,” he managed after a few minutes. “There’s a Home Depot about six blocks from here.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “You can just make out the orange sign if you look close enough.” Randy smiled. “We’ll be watching a zombie movie by nightfall.”

  “I was hoping for more romance, maybe a Jennifer Aniston flick.”

  “I wonder what she looks like as a zombie.”

  “Who?” Becca began cleaning up the remains of breakfast.

  “Jennifer Aniston. She’s probably still hot as a zombie.”

  “She probably is.” Becca grinned. “I’d let her go down on me.”

  “Seriously? You, um, go both ways?”

  “Sure, why not? There is nothing better than the female body.”

  “I’m not going to argue with that.” Randy pitched in, figuring he would need to help out around here as well. It was her place, after all. The alternative was back outside in reality. “You’d have to knock out her teeth first.”

  “True. That’s what the Hellfire Club does.”

  “Who?”

  Becca looked sick. “Nothing.”

  Randy put the coffee mugs on the table inside. “Something.”

  “Forget I even mentioned it.”

  “You know I can’t. What are you talking about?”

  Becca sat down at the table. “I ran into these people a few weeks back, and they had formed this club. They were partying in Baltimore somewhere. They’re probably all dead by now.”

  “Partying? With this shit going on?”

  “Yeah, that was kind of the point. With the world like it is there were no more rules, no God or government to enforce them, and no more good or evil. They did whatever the fuck they wanted.”

  “Like?”

  Becca shook her head. “I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.”

  “Were you…” Randy didn’t know how to proceed.

  “No.” Becca licked her lips. “But I knew someone who was.”

  “Recently?”

  “Don’t get all jealous boyfriend on me, we just met. Fuck, I thought you’d be different.”

  “I want to know everything about you. Is that so terrible?”

  “It is if you want to dwell on the terrible.”

  “I told you my whole life in a paragraph or less. All you’ve told me is your fake name and your fake place of origin.”

  “Leave it alone.” Becca went back out to the patio and stood looking at the plumes of gray smoke.

  V

  “How do we get this home?” Becca whispered in Randy’s ear. They’d successfully skipped past dozens of zombies roaming the street and climbed over the garden area fence of Home Depot and wedged the doors open. Now they stood beside four generators, the last in the store, and wondered how to get them the long eight blocks home.

  Despite what was going on just outside, the store was undamaged. The front door had been smashed in but they didn’t see any blood or bodies inside. With the lights out in the warehouse store it was gloomy, with pockets of shadows everywhere. They both knew that it would be easy for a zombie to be an aisle away without being seen.

  They tried to focus on the task at hand and not creep themselves out.

  “We load them onto those rolling carts you see in the commercials and we take our sweet time getting home.” They’d left a few minutes after their tiff this morning, going as light as they dared so they would be able to run away if necessary.

  “It will take us all day.”

  “And by tonight we’ll be watching Shaun Of The Dead.”

  “I said no zombie movies.”

  “It’s a comedy. Can’t we compromise?”

  Becca ignored him and went in search of the cart. “We could really use half of this store.” She paused near the power tool section. “We need a good chainsaw to kill them with.”

  “Who are you, Bruce Campbell? We need to find more bullets. I only have two left.”

  “I only have six. If a mob of them attacks we are so fucke
d it’s not funny.”

  “Then the goal…”

  “Is to not be attacked.” Becca found two carts and began pushing one back to the generators.

  Randy grabbed the other and grimaced when the wheels began to squeak loudly. “It figures I’d get this one. Can I ever catch a break?”

  “I guess you can try to find another one – “

  Randy turned when Becca screamed and brought the gun up reflexively.

  The zombie was covered in a brownish liquid from head to toe. The left side of its face was gone, ripped apart and dripping to the crushed collarbone. Randy had no idea whether or not it had been male or female when it was living, and it didn’t really matter at this moment in time.

  Becca was on the ground with her legs held up before her kicking at the zombie. Her left arm was bleeding profusely. “Help! Shoot this bitch!” she cried.

  He moved closer to get a better angle as Becca fended it off with her feet, but the zombie was trying to maneuver around her legs and swiping at them with dirty hands.

  “Kick it away from you, it’s too close,” he cried in frustration. He finally stepped right up to the zombie, ignoring the fear in his mind and the puke welling up his throat, and put the pistol to its head.

  “One bullet left,” he muttered as the zombie’s head exploded and the body dropped to the ground. He tried not to cry and to be a man in front of Becca.

  They took turns puking in an adjacent aisle before resuming the reason that they were here.

  “You need to kill the next one,” Randy said as they lifted the first generator onto the flat cart. “Deal?”

  Becca patted the rifle. “Deal.” She helped him with the second generator. “Should we get a tarp or something?”

  “Good idea. We can pile as much shit as we can on top of these two and then put a tarp and some bungee cords to keep it in place.”

  “Do we need gas for these?” she asked.

  Randy closed his eyes and winced. “Yeah, I guess we do. We only passed one intact gas station but the pumps don’t work. Shit.”

  “There has to be a car around here somewhere, we can siphon out some gas from it. Right?”

  “Right.” Randy kissed her cheek. “We need to get a hose as well.”

  “And a shitload of batteries and some flashlights. Does this place have blinds and curtains?”

  “I’m sure it does. Let’s go find some dark curtains. No sense in alerting every zombie within ten miles that someone has power.”

  They walked, taking turns pulling the cart with them and adding items to the top: hammers, a box of nails, several feet of chain, candy bars from the checkout area, a machete, and six flashlights. They filled an empty cardboard box with batteries.

  The break room was still in great shape and they took the coffee pot with glee. Randy punched in the soda machine and they loaded another box with Cokes and Diet Cokes.

  The Home Depot did carry curtains – but no bullets – and Becca selected three of the darkest that she could find and added them to the growing pile.

  “I wish we could take a washing machine or dryer,” Randy said. He sniffed his armpit. “I can’t remember the last bath I had.”

  “You do stink.”

  “Really? I do? Have you gotten a whiff of you lately?”

  “Nice to know I stink. No pussy for you now.”

  Randy backtracked. “I was kidding, you smell like flowers down there.”

  “I’ve been wearing the same thong for three days.”

  Randy laughed. “So have I.”

  “Gross.” Becca added a heavy duty curtain rod set. “The only thing I didn’t get was laundry detergent when I went out originally. The Wal-Mart was torched the same day.”

  They raided the bathrooms in the store and came away with five bottles of hand soap, thirty-six rolls of toilet paper, three cases of paper towels, and four boxes of tampons. “Much needed in a couple of days, trust me,” Becca said and shook a box for emphasis.

  Randy found tarp and bungee cords and carefully wrapped the cart, which stood almost five foot tall. At the last minute they added another machete and two pairs of hedge clippers to the top of the tarp within easy reach.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Are you?”

  “Uh, sure,” he lied.

  “I’m scared.”

  “Me, too.” Randy grabbed the handle of the cart. “Let’s roll. Get it? Roll?”

  “Lame.” Becca led the way out the shattered front door, rifle pointing before her.

  VI

  They squatted behind the full cart and held their breaths. Randy held the machete and Becca had her rifle, but they didn’t dare make a move.

  They’d had no problems for the first four blocks of their journey, sticking to the sidewalks when possible and taking turns pulling the cart and keeping an eye out in the front.

  The fifth block had been so bad.

  Randy had been pulling when he came to an intersection and peeked around the corner. Thankfully he had the machete in his hand because the zombie before him was within inches of his face when he looked. The acrid stench almost made Randy pass out. He swung wildly and connected with the creature’s arm, severing it at the shoulder. It took a step forward and grasped Randy’s shirt with its uninjured hand.

  Becca stepped around Randy and smashed it in the face with the rifle butt. It fell back and Randy began chopping it to pieces with his weapon.

  “Hit it in the head, sever the head,” Becca shouted. “Fuck!”

  Randy looked up to see at least a dozen of its friends coming toward them from the other end of the street. He focused on the immediate danger and plunged the machete into the neck of the zombie three times until it stopped struggling to rise.

  “We need to move now,” Becca said and grabbed control of the cart. They began moving along at a slow but steady pace.

  Randy couldn’t help but laugh. “This is like a cartoon or something. The zombies are pacing with us, we’re moving so damn slow.”

  “But we’ll get tired before they do. I can’t pull this all the way home. I’m already wiped from the few blocks we went, and so are you. Plus we still need to stop and get gas. I doubt they’ll stand by while we suck gas with a hose.”

  “Then we need to get home and come back out later or tomorrow for gas.”

  Becca pouted as she struggled to pull the cart. Randy grabbed hold of it as well and they picked up a miniscule amount of speed.

  “At this rate we’ll outdistance them by morning,” Becca said. “I wanted to watch a movie.”

  “We haven’t seen a Blockbuster yet.”

  “I have movies in my bedroom.”

  “You do? Why would you collect movies without power?”

  “Never mind,” Becca said and turned away to look at the pursuit.

  “Trouble ahead,” Randy said. “We’re truly fucked.”

  Another ragtag group of zombies were heading directly for them from the next block, the slow shuffle and eerie quiet freaking Randy out. “Maybe we should abandon the cart and get to safety.”

  “No fucking way I’m letting this shit out of my sight,” Becca said. “Let’s go this way.” She started turning the cart to the left and crossing the street.

  “That could be a dead end.”

  “It’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Just help me pull it.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Becca looked furious. “I know what the fuck I’m doing. Be a fucking man and help me with this heavy shit. Goddamn.”

  “Sorry.” Randy was stunned, not only at the words but at the venom spewing from her. He wanted to hold her, kiss her sweet face and tell her that he loved her. He knew right then and there that he did.

  Instead, he gripped the handle and put all of his strength behind pulling the cart, bouncing over the sidewalk and crossing the street. Both groups were equidistant and slowly closing on them.

  They got the c
art into the alley with Becca up front and Randy pushing with all of his might behind. He was amazed that the tarp and bungee cords hadn’t slipped off with all of the shaking going on, and he was thankful for that.

  Randy couldn’t see around the cart but he could feel Becca pulling it. If there is anything in front of her, we’re screwed, he thought. But was that the truth? She had the rifle and she definitely knew how to use it. She also had more bullets than he did.

  Suddenly Randy shouldered the cart and they were back onto a street. Hs arms felt like they were loaded down with weights and his calves were tight. His feet were swollen. He needed to rest.

  Becca came around and dropped down, pulling Randy with her. “There are two of them just across the street. They didn’t see us yet. I think we can wait here, get a break, and then they’ll hopefully move on.”

  Randy nodded, holding the machete loosely. He tried not to breathe too loud. He was out of shape, even at his young age. He did notice, with some satisfaction, that Becca looked just as winded. Then he felt stupid for thinking that way. Neither of us will be able to survive for long. Great, he thought.

  All they could do was wait. Behind them, through the alley, nothing moved. They knew it wouldn’t be long before the mob caught up with them, but the two on the street would draw even more attention.

  “We’re taking almost the same route back yet there are dozens of these fucking things between us now. Does that make sense?” Becca asked and glanced over the cart again.

  “Do dead people fucking you to death make sense?”

  “Point taken. They’re moving up the street.”

  “Which way?”

  “Away from us. We need to move and do it quietly. No sense in having them alerted, they seem to have a way to get the attention of others.”

  Exhausted and drained, they took another thirty minutes to slowly navigate the remainder of their journey, ducking one more time when three zombies shuffled past.

  Most of the day had been spent and they still hadn’t gotten gasoline for the generators.

  When they got up to the fence Becca leaned against the hole. “Fuck. We’ve been breached.”

  Two: Drugs