J. G. Andrews

by Dead Road 02

  Dead Road

  (Part 2)

  by J. G. Andrews

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by J.G. Andrews

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the Publisher.

  Published in the United States of America. For further information: JGAndrews83@gmail.com

  Twitter: JGAndrews83

  Chapter 6

  “GOD, I wish I had my iPod,” Natalie grumbled, rubbing hard against her eyes. “This is so boring. How long have we been driving?”

  John steered easily around an abandoned car. “Couple hours,” he replied, his blues eyes absorbing everything on the road ahead. He snuck a peek in his rearview mirror, checking to see that Darian had avoided the car.

  “We’re barely outside of Gilroy!”

  “Yeah, well, we’re driving 25 miles an hour,” Amy said, head back, eyes closed. “Just try to sleep.”

  “With all the cars on the road we can’t go any faster,” John added. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Nat, but we’re not a bulldozer.” He caught sight of a man trudging along the road and drove past without a second thought.

  “Don’t call me Nat,” Natalie mumbled and turned to stare out the window. “How much further ‘til we stop at least?”

  “I wanna make it to Pacheco Pass before we stop to do anythi – SHIT!” John swerved around another car, slammed on the brakes, and the SUV screeched to a stop. Everyone lurched forward in their seats.

  “What’s happened?” Natalie shouted, leaning forward to look through the windshield. She stopped when John’s hand moved in front of her face, pushing her back abruptly. “Hey, asshole!”

  “Don’t look,” he ordered sharply, his eyes focused on what had forced him to stop. The SUV rumbled, ready to continue onward.

  Darian’s turned his truck sharply to avoid the SUV’s bumper, stopping partially off the road. Darian stuck his head out of the driver’s side window. “What the hell’s going on?” he yelled. He popped the gear into reverse, hauling his truck back onto the road.

  “What is it, John?” Amy asked from the back, but heeded the younger man’s words and stayed in her seat.

  Ahead of the black SUV a group of five people blocked the open side of the road. They knelt over another man’s body, hands half buried inside his torn open chest. Blood coated their arms, faces, and clothes, but they clearly did not mind. Their attention turned from their feast and to the black SUV only a few feet away. A woman with long brown hair, a large clump ripped from her scalp, opened her mouth. Chunks of human intestines hung between her teeth. The five rose to their feet, facing their new, livelier, interest.

  “What do you think, Mr. Yamate?” John asked the man sitting beside him, attention never leaving the gory five. They all stepped forward, almost in perfect unison.

  The old man leaned forward in his seat to get a better look at the carnage. He cleared his throat to control his gag reflex. “Go through them,” he finally replied and he looked away, out the side window.

  “Ladies, close your eyes,” John said and revved the SUV’s engine.

  Annoyed at John’s tone, Natalie glanced over at Amy and saw that she had done as asked. The blonde rolled her eyes before complying and closing them as well. The engine’s sudden roar filled her ears and she felt the car shoot forward.

  Ba-dum, ba-dum

  The car bounced in the air as if hitting a lumpy speed bump, Natalie bouncing with it. A loud THUD smacked against her window, startling her and she opened her eyes to look. Nothing was there but a streak of reddish fluid and she leaned away from it as if it could burn through the glass and attack her.

  John sprayed the windshield with water, washing away the blood and other gore smeared across it, the wipers clearing it all away. He smiled weakly at Hiroshi, whose dark hair looked as though it had suddenly gained a couple more grey streaks. “Wasn’t so bad, right?”

  Giving a strained nod in return, Hiroshi said, “Yes, O’Dae, not so bad.”

  “What was it?” Natalie asked quietly.

  “A very big raccoon,” John answered. “Let’s leave it at that.”

  The blonde shook her head, knowing John’s reply was a lie, but also knowing questioning him further would likely result in no better explanation.

  “There will be more soon,” Hiroshi said. “We’re nearing the Outlets.”

  “God, I hope there aren’t a lot of cars in the way.”

  *****

  “Well, this’ll be fun,” Darian said sarcastically leaning over Karen to speak out her window. A shot of wind smacked him in the face, rustling the short curls in his brown hair. His truck had stopped besides Amy’s SUV, windows rolled down so the drivers could talk to one another.

  John’s head hung out his window, the middle finger of his hand rubbing firmly against his eyelids, a grimace on his face. “Yup,” he muttered in return, frustrated at the hundreds of cars that blocked the highway by the shopping outlets.

  “I guess the end of the world really makes people want to go shopping,” Darian joked blandly.

  “We’ll just drive down the side as far as we can and if there’s a car in the way, we’ll have to get out and push it,” John said. “I think we’re about two miles from the exit we want.”

  “Yeah, and I think this mess goes on for about ten.”

  John smiled over at Darian and Karen. “Well, we only have to go two of those.”

  “Get out and push, he says,” Darian mumbled and he fell back into the driver’s seat. “We sure picked the crappy way outta town.”

  “Can we stop and get some things from the outlets?” Natalie asked, bending over John’s seat, planting her face next to his. “We could get a lot of good stuff.”

  “We could also end up running into a thousand sick people,” John countered and deliberately pulled the car to the side of the highway. “We’re not going on a free shopping spree through infection central.”

  Blowing the strand of blonde hair out of her face in frustration, Natalie plopped back in her sea. She crossed her arms over her chest like a child denied her candy.

  Hiroshi hummed and pointed ahead.

  John was frowning, pushing on the brakes. “Yeah, I see it.” Some twenty yards away a small two-door car stuck partly in their lane. Right past it was a short bridge, making driving around the two-door hard to do without the possibility of rolling their vehicles.

  “We can back up and go down to the off ramp we just passed,” Amy said. “Then take that back onto the highway once we pass the bridge.”

  Glancing in the rearview window to see Darian’ truck, John pushed the emergency lights button and slowly started to move in reverse. He nodded to himself upon seeing Darian follow suit and backed up until he felt safe enough to turn the SUV down the grassy hill and to the exit leading into town.

  The black SUV easily moved from the highway and on the uneven ground. It rolled down without acceleration, bouncy slightly as it did, and bypassed a sick woman who was trying to walk up the hill, having heard the rumble of engines.

  Stumbling as her prey passed her by, the pale woman dropped to her hands and knees. The steel bumper of Darian’s truck slammed into her forehead, crushing her skull and throwing her down the hill. She tumbled hard before sliding to a stop in a broken heap.

  The truck rumbled on.

  Karen’s green eyes stared at Darian, alarmed. She tucked a couple of red hairs behind her right ear that had fallen across her glasses.

  “W
hat?” Darian asked, not taking his gaze from the road. He could feel her eyes boring into his head and it bothered him.

  “You hit that woman.” Karen’s accusation was obvious to hear.

  “Yeah, well, yeah,” Darian replied lamely. “What do you want me to say?”

  “That it was an accident, maybe?”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Darian said plainly, getting annoyed with Karen’s tone. “What the hell is John doing?”

  John had made a right turn on the city street instead of continuing back on the highway. Passing a fast food restaurant, he let the car roll to a stop, across the street from an abandoned and trashed gas station. A couple of cars sat, left behind, next to the gas pumps. He flipped on the blinker, revealing his next move to Darian, and slowly turned the SUV into the station. “What side is the tank on?”

  “Passenger,” Amy said. “Are you sure we’ll even be able to get gas?”

  “No, but I’d like to hit Pacheco with a full tank, if possible.” John pulled up beside one of the empty pumps. “If we can’t, we can at least loot the store for food and things.”

  He glanced around at the passengers in the car. “If you’re getting out, keep your eyes and ears peeled. If you see a sick person, just run away and get back to the cars.”

  With that said, John opened the door and slid out, pulling his 9 iron with him. His feet hit the ground and he scanned the station for other people. The Panda surgical mask slipped over his mouth and nose smoothly, as if he’d had years of experience. He hurried around the SUV, passing the bloody front bumper, to the pump, exhaling when he saw the machine was active.

  Darian stepped out of his truck, bat in hand. “Working?” He started to put his Cat mask on.

  “Yeah, we’re lucky.” John watched as Karen slid from the truck, a scowl on her face. He didn’t question it, instead swiping his credit card through the slot and pulling the nozzle from its handle. Pushing the nozzle into the tank, John set it to automatically pump. “Stay with the cars.”

  He moved to follow Karen, who strode purposefully toward the station’s convenience store, placing her Dog mask over her mouth. Behind him, Natalie exited the SUV, rushing to catch up and struggling to put her Mouse mask on properly. John reached Karen before she could enter, grabbing her shoulder. When she turned to look at him, he shook his head and raised his 9 iron. “Gentlemen with 9 iron’s first.”

  Karen stepped to the side, offering the door. “By all means,” she said with false courtesy, smiling behind her mask. It fell as fast as it had risen. “But we need to talk.”

  “Inside,” John replied, and though his gut screamed that it was a stupid idea, he pushed open the glass door to the store, having peeked inside for any movement already. There was a loud Ping as his foot tripped the entry and exit sensor. With his 9 iron resting on his shoulder and with a turtle like pace, he approached the counter. He spotted a bloody hand print first, a streaky smear over the top, and he stopped.

  Ping, ping

  Karen and Natalie stepped inside and John spun around, pointing the 9 iron at them, his eyes wide in warning. He tilted his head toward the counter and shook his head, trying to tell them they had to stay quiet. When the two stopped in their tracks, he nodded once, hard. Licking his lips lightly behind his mask, John slid his feet over the tile floor to hush his moves. He sidled up to the counter and moved to touch the blood. His fingers stopped, hovering over the splatter. It could be infected, he thought, and pulled back. Instead, he gradually leaned over it to peer at the other side, careful to avoid touching the blood.

  His hand covered the mask over his mouth as he felt his last meal, dinner from the day before, try to come back up his throat. He hiccupped and swallowed heavily, forcing down the bile. Exhaling weakly, he ran his hand up his face hard, over his eyes, trying to erase what he had seen.

  On the floor behind the counter lay a man; his chest ripped open, entrails spilt out and over his exposed ribs. His left arm was missing from the elbow down and sizeable bites covered his right, chunks of flesh gone. Both legs were gone as well, now gory stubs, the femur bones sticking out of the remaining flesh and muscles. His jaw lay on the floor beside what little remained of his head. A trail of blood led from around the counter and into the store.

  John fell away from the gory scene, eyes locating the path of blood as it continued around the last aisle, and out of sight. He glanced back at the girls, who remained near the door, waiting. “Stay.”

  Suddenly, it felt as if his shoes were full of lead, as lifting his feet to walk took all the strength he had in his legs. He clutched the 9 iron with both hands, palms sweating, and advanced on the last aisle. His head of messy brown hair stuck around the corner.

  On the left side of the aisle were the drinks, behind glass doors; the other side had short shelves of assorted junk food and candy. The wake of blood travelled the entire length, to the opposite end of the store and stopped at a closed unisex bathroom door. He turned to the store entrance and lifted his 9 iron in the air, waving it back and forth to catch Karen and Natalie’s attention.

  They hurried inside at his beckoning, stopping beside him. Natalie eyed the bloody floor apprehensively.

  “Grab what you can, as fast as you can, and whatever you do, don’t look behind the counter,” John ordered before adding, “And stay away from the bathroom.”

  The three split and propelled themselves into different aisles, grabbing random snacks from their hooks and candies from their boxes. John stopped in front of the small electronics wall, snatching batteries and shoving them into his pockets. Next he took two small flashlights and turned to leave before thinking of something else. Spinning around, he pulled a road map of California off the wall and shoved it into his pants.

  “John.”

  Karen’s voice startled him and he spun around in a hurry, nearly dropping the flashlights and his 9 iron. “Oh good,” he said, looking down at Karen. She was only slightly shorter than him. He pushed the flashlights on her. “Take these and help me get more batteries.”

  “I’m worried about Darian,” Karen whispered and began pulling batteries from the wall, making a basket against her stomach with her free arm. She wiggled her nose to keep her glasses from sliding off.

  John raised an eyebrow but kept taking batteries. “What do you mean?”

  “He seems,” she paused to find the right word, “entertained by everything that’s happening. He hit that woman on the hill and didn’t seem to care that he probably killed her.”

  “He does seem to be taking to this situation better than the rest of us.”

  “A little too happily,” Karen said.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  There was a scream and a loud crash, as Natalie jumped into a shelf, knocking over most of its products.

  As Karen turned to look, John had already sprang into action, disappearing into one of the aisles, 9 iron clutched tightly in his hand. Karen blinked, surprised by John’s quick reaction before she caught sight of something in the corner of her eye. Her mouth gaped ever so slightly as she turned to the open bathroom door.

  John crashed into a shelf of chips in his hurry, spraying them into the air. They splattered across the floor as the shelf rocked. Ignoring the stabbing pain that spread through his right shoulder, John kept moving.

  “Natalie!” he shouted, reaching the end of the aisle and colliding with the end wall. Wincing briefly, he discovered her, backed against a shelf as a tall man in a blood soaked janitor’s uniform loomed over her. Her grey-green eyes were wide with terror as her small hands fumbled for something, anything on the shelf she could use to fend off her attacker.

  “Bastard!” John exclaimed and swung his club, striking the man in the back of his neck.

  The man stumbled forward and Natalie shrieked, dropping low to avoid his reaching bloodstained hands. She attempted to crawl away, but felt her hands and knees scrambling in place.

  Slamming his club into the man’s elbow, John wa
tched in horror as it bent awkwardly upon contact. The man collapsed against the far wall, arms flailing and hands clawing at its contents, knocking them to the floor.

  “Shit,” John swore and swung his bent 9 iron, smacking the sick janitor on the shoulder. It did little this time and the tall man deliberately turned to face him, the bigger meal having captured his attention.

  At his full height, the janitor stood well over six feet, and John had to strain his neck to look at his face. Blood matted his curly brown hair, dripping down his forehead. Human juices saturated his uniform from the waist up, three flies crawling hungrily over his face and inside his mouth. A stitched in tag with his name, Ray, was barely legible underneath the blood. His massive hands reached out for John, who could see no pink flesh on them, only red. Dirty teeth revealed themselves from behind his cracked lips as Ray opened his mouth and lunged at John. The hunger shone in his manic pallid eyes, like a man dying of starvation.

  John lashed out with his bent 9 iron one more time, cracking the man in the ear. The man staggered but remained on his feet, a deep gash where his club had hit. Stepping back as the blood covered janitor lurched for him, John raised his club with both hands, creating a thin shield between them. He rammed the bar into the man’s gaping mouth, crying out as the janitor’s large hands seized his shoulders.

  Ray’s filthy mouth gnawed ferociously on the golf club, trying desperately to bite through it, but his teeth started cracking. They wrestled like that for a moment before John tripped backward under the taller man’s weight. His left side struck the edge of a shelf, the metal stabbing into him. He yelled in pain as the two continued to stumble in his direction, the sick janitor’s fingers digging deeper into his shoulders.

  Planting his right foot, John yanked on the golf club, steering the janitor around until the two had switched sides. With a booming shout of anger, he forced the taller man to fall back a step. He pushed hard yet again and released his 9 iron, propelling Ray into a glass door which shattered on impact, spilling the soft drinks off the shelves behind it. Jagged shards cut through the janitor’s uniform and into his body, stabbing into his thighs and arms.