J. G. Andrews

by Dead Road 02

  The cab of the truck fell silent. Listening to the wheels rolling over the road, John’s head dropped, messy hair falling across his eyes. When he finally spoke, some minutes later, it was soft, tired. “What was that poem?”

  “What? What poem?” Darian asked, confused by the random question. He’d thought John had fallen asleep.

  “No, not poem, it was a quote. You used to say it a lot in college, after Professor Romero said it in class,” John replied and lifted his head, peering at the gloomy world as it passed. “Something about ‘monsters’?” He trailed off slowly before planting his palm against his forehead, frustrated.

  “‘Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster,’” Darian started calmly. “‘And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.’” He finished in a hushed voice, exhaling deeply.

  “Yeah,” John said sullenly, still staring darkly out his window. “That was it.”

  *****

  “You asleep?” Darian asked.

  “Hmm?” John murmured sleepily.

  “Remember when we were kids and we’d run around your neighborhood pretending we were superheroes?”

  “And we’d beat up imaginary bad guys. Whenever we’d do something we thought was cool, we’d stop what we were doing and tell each other.”

  Darian chuckled. “I remember roundhouse kicking a guy’s head off.”

  “I was always the better fighter,” John boasted with a tired smile.

  “Yeah, when we were fighting imaginary people. When it was real people, I was the one doing most of the damage.”

  John rolled his eyes. “Well, you were the one getting us into the fights.”

  “You remember how it felt though, when we were fighting those imaginary bad guys?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was exciting; we were awesome heroes, running around beating up monsters and thugs. We were invincible.”

  “Yeah, was pretty fun,” John said. He knew where Darian’s line of thought was headed. “And that’s how you feel right now, isn’t it?”

  “To a degree,” Darian replied honestly. “I don’t think I can roundhouse kick a head off someone like I did as a kid.”

  John couldn’t help but smile. It fell as quick as it appeared. “But it’s not the same, this isn’t imaginary.”

  “But you can’t tell me you haven’t felt that same excitement, John.”

  “I’ve been too busy trying not to go insane and figure out what we should be doing to be having fun, Darian,” John retorted. “This isn’t some kid’s game. What’s out there won’t just disappear when you get tired of playing around. We’re not invincible this time. We can or will die.”

  Darian brushed a hand over the steering wheel then brought it to his mouth, running a finger over his bottom lip. He scratched his rough, unshaven cheek. “That’s why. . . if I get bit—”

  “Don’t even say what you’re going to say,” John interrupted.

  “If you got bit, I’d shoot you in the head,” Darian replied earnestly.

  John’s head drooped and he shook it. “That’s comforting to hear.”

  “I hope you’d do the same for me.”

  “They’re turning.” John said, ignoring Darian’s request, and pointed at the flashing turn signal as it blinked. The sun was just cresting over the horizon, the dim morning light growing brighter every minute and washing over the world, revealing a new day. He marveled at the fact that it had only been one day and not the year it had felt like.

  “Yeah, I see that,” Darian said, shaking his head. “We’re heading into farmland. Yeehaw.” He followed the SUV to a small two-lane road. Fields of crops extended into the distance on both sides for miles.

  “It shouldn’t be too long ‘til we come across some farmhouse.”

  “That can’t happen soon enough. I’m fucking tired of driving.” Darian looked it, his eyelids drooping as he leaned heavily on the steering wheel.

  “Just a little longer, man. I haven’t seen any people around in awhile, so that’s good.”

  Darian nodded sluggishly. They drove for another five minutes, passing a large complex with dozens of agricultural warehouses. What should have taken a couple of minutes became an extra half hour, with more turns and strange roads.

  “Where the hell are the houses!” Darian exclaimed, slamming his hands on the wheel. “I need a damn bed!”

  “Check it out,” John said and trained a finger on a long one-story ranch in the distance. Beside it was a large barn, rusted from years of abusive weather, and a small stable, both guarded by an old wooden fence. The driveway was dirt and gravel, a field of tall corn to its left. “Home, sweet, home,” he crowed, slapping a hand on the dashboard in front of him.

  “God damn, I am going to sleep like a king!” Darian stuck behind the black SUV as it pulled noisily into the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust that swarmed around the cars. Before it had cleared, he and John were stepping out.

  “Grab your mask and bat. We don’t know what’s in there,” John warned, already clutching his surgical mask in his hand. His shoes slid through the loose gravel, knocking some of it to the side.

  Darian, mask in place over his mouth, bat slung over his shoulder, moved for the front door. He heard John walking behind him, the rocks underfoot crackling with each step. As they passed the SUV, one of the doors opened, and Mark hopped out, Natalie’s mouse surgical mask tight around his face, his light blue eyes clear to see. He held a bat in both hands and in the morning light, it was easy to see how much he towered over John and Darian. He tossed a bat to John, who caught it deftly by its handle.

  “Stay in the car until we make sure the place is clear,” John instructed firmly.

  The front door of the house burst open and a man stepped out, rifle held steady in his hands. In his late sixties, head covered in curly grey hair, a thick mustache bristled above his parched lips. Years of working in the sun had bronzed his skin. The rifle trained in on John’s chest and the three stopped in their tracks, stunned and unprepared.

  “Uh, crap,” Darian mumbled behind his Cat mask.

  Chapter 9

  “YOU boys best get back in your cars,” the older man growled, letting the rifle drift and directed its aim at Darian’s head. He licked his lips. “I don’t want any strangers comin’ around here. I know what’s goin’ on out there and I don’t want you bringin’ it here.”

  “I’m really surprised we didn’t consider this possibility,” Darian whispered to the others.

  “Sir—”

  “Don’t ‘sir’ me!” the farmer shouted, pointing the rifle at John. “Just get in your cars and leave!”

  Dropping the bat in his hand, John raised them both in the air, trying to show he meant no harm. “Just listen for a second, please!” He stepped forward, keeping his arms up.

  “One more step, son, and you’ll lose your head.”

  “There are women and a child in the cars. We’re just looking for a place to stay for a little bit. We’re all really tired, sir, we’ve been driving all night,” John said.

  “Please, sir! None of us are sick!” Mark shouted, letting go of his bat. “We’re just trying to stay away from cities and this is the first house we’ve come across.”

  The rifle started to drop, but remained tightly gripped. “I don’t know you. I don’t want you bringin’ any problems from out there.”

  “We don’t want to bring any problems either. Speaking for myself, I just want to sleep in a damn bed,” Darian said, keeping hold of his bat and after a moment added politely, “sir.”

  “We’re not sick,” John restated and pulled off his Cat mask. “And we’re trying to stay that way. Right now, we should be working together to keep it like that, not threatening to kill each other.”

  “Who’s in the car? Lemme see ‘em?” the grey haired man demanded, a bead of sweat rolling down his face and sinking into the tip of his mustache.

  “I’m not too comfortable with the
m getting out of the car, with you holding that gun, sir,” John returned, nodding his head at the weapon. “I don’t know how comfortable they’ll be either.”

  The backdoor to the SUV opened and the old farmer trained his rifle on the door as two hands appeared in the air. Karen slid out of the car, breathing nervously. Slow and careful, she walked out until she was clear of the vehicle and stopped near the men. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her nerves, but her shoulders still trembled at the sight of the rifle’s muzzle aimed at her head.

  She licked her suddenly dry lips, and her voice shook as she spoke. “We just want to rest for a bit. Please, sir.”

  *****

  His name was Ben Hannaford, a farmer for forty-five of his many years. Multiple dead animal heads, deer, and elk decorated the interior of his house while assorted antlers lined the higher walls. An old brick fire-place with a bison’s head perched above it centered the living room, where everyone sat on three old beige couches, their fabric worn from years of use. A crafted wooden coffee table was strategically placed in the center, cups of water scattered across its top. The place smell of animal and crops, an earthy scent that John and the others, outside of Mark and Alex, weren’t accustomed to smelling.

  John coughed into his hand and took a sip of his water. The staring eyes of the animals unnerved him and made him all the more fearful of Ben’s gun expertise. “Thank you for letting us in,” he said.

  Ben ran a finger over his mustache, considering the group of people who now sat in his home. His rifle lay across his lap. “I’m sorry about my not so warm welcome,” he replied. “But right now, it’s rather hard to trust people comin’ up to my farm at the crack of dawn.”

  “How much do you know about what’s happening?” Amy asked. She was sharing a couch with her husband and Natalie. As three of the smallest people in the group, they had plenty of room between them and sat comfortably.

  “I’ve seen the people, if that’s what you’re wonderin’. I’ve seen the sickness that they’re dealin’ with. They ain’t right in the head, that’s for sure. None have made it out here though,” Ben stated somewhat proudly.

  Amy nodded and smiled, relieved to hear that bit of information. “We’ve run into quite a few of them. They’re violent, dangerous, completely out of their minds and they’re everywhere. Everyone is sick, but we don’t know if it’s just the bay, the state or the entire country.”

  “I think it’s safe to say that this ain’t just a California thing. All the TV’s are out, my phone lines are dead. I ain’t heard from anyone outside of this farm since last night. Well, I suppose that was two nights ago now. Where’d you come from?”

  “We’re from the San Jose area,” Amy stated, pointing to those in the group that had left from the school. “This is Natalie Pace, Karen Ross, John O’Dae, Darian Whitaker, my husband Hiroshi Yamate, and I’m Amy.”

  “We’re from Fresno,” Mark said and put a hand on Alex’s head, easily encompassing the boy’s skull. “I’m Mark Hauser and this guy is Alex Cross.”

  John said, “These people are walking around just looking for someone to eat.”

  “Eat?” Ben asked.

  “You don’t know?” John blinked and looked around at the others. Mark and Alex looked confused as well. “Do you know?”

  “No,” Mark replied, brow furrowed. “I mean, we saw them attacking people, but. . . What do you mean by ‘eat’?”

  Amy said, “Just that. They’re eating people. Healthy people like us. We’ve seen them doing it and seen some of what they’ve left behind. Whatever’s infected everyone has them confused into believing that we’re their food.”

  “It’s scary shit, Ben, sir,” John stumbled. “These are the types of things that send chills down your spine. Make you throw up.”

  “Kinda like when I look at Darian,” Natalie supposed.

  Darian shot her an annoyed glare.

  “We just need to crash for a bit, sir,” John continued, ignoring Natalie’s barb. “We’ll leave tomorrow if you want us to, but we’re already grateful for letting us come inside and sit.”

  “Yeah, the water’s great.” Darian lifted his glass and beamed a wide, patronizing smile. “Can’t wait for another.”

  “I don’t care much for you, son,” Ben said pointedly, placing a hand on his rifle. “And if you keep up that attitude, you can sleep out in the bed of your truck.”

  “I’d rather not, sir, but I do appreciate the warning.”

  “You can stay for the time bein’, but if you start to wear out your welcome, or bring any of those sick people this way, I’ll have to ask you all the leave just as you came. Out that door, into your cars with my rifle pointed at your backs.”

  *****

  The afternoon sun bounced off the tall sweet corn stalks, spraying a dazzling glow over the Hannaford farm. Each ray of light that touched the ground exalted its warmth upon it. A strong, cool breeze helped keep it pleasant, rustling the dead September trees that stood high around the barn and stable. John ran a hand through his messy brown hair, enjoying the heat of the sun on his face.

  “I can understand why you like it out here, Ben,” he said, glancing at the elderly man to his right. “Especially after the last two days. Feels like a nice escape.”

  “Thank you, John.” Ben looked down the road they had arrived on, eyes narrowed. “I have plenty of rooms for you all, though some of you will have to share. My room is off limits. No one enters but me, is that clear?”

  Nodding repeatedly, John said, “Clear as day, Ben. We won’t cause any problems, I promise.”

  “That’s a hard promise to keep, son, I hope you’re up for stickin’ to it.”

  “I know this is a lot to ask, seeing as we just met today and you were pointing a gun at me only a couple hours ago,” John started, finding himself rambling. “A horse.”

  “What about a horse?”

  “Do you have any here, that I could, possibly, borrow?” John was fumbling over his words now, realizing how crazy his request sounded.

  “Now why would you want to borrow a horse?”

  *****

  Darian walked down a hallway toward the rear of Ben’s house, eyeing every dead animal head as he passed. He wrinkled his nose at the abundant farm odor that never seemed to leave. As he stepped by the mounted head of a deer, he stuck his tongue out at it.

  “And still, the stuffed deer looks better than you,” Natalie’s voice spoke from behind him.

  Turning to face the teenager, Darian looked her up and down. “And I see you’ve already partaken of our host’s hospitality.”

  Wearing a red and black plaid shirt with tight denim jeans, Natalie was a picture of the typical farm girl, missing only a cowboy hat. Hands placed strategically on her hips, they helped show her body’s curves, previously hidden under baggy sweat pants. She looked annoyed, which Darian had realized long before was the norm for her.

  “They’re girl’s clothing. I don’t think Ben was going to use them.”

  “So you just took them without asking? Where’d you find them?”

  “One of the rooms in back. I think it was his daughter’s.”

  Darian flicked the nose of the deer head and hummed in thought. “You know, we didn’t even ask the old man if there was anyone else here, like his family.”

  “Or what happened to them,” Natalie added and smiled mysteriously. “Maybe old man Ben killed his family and they’re buried under the barn,” she whispered.

  Darian raised a single eyebrow at the accusation, but his eyes slowly found their way to the deer head that jutted out at him. Its shocked expression stared back at him. “And their heads are probably mounted in his bedroom.”

  *****

  “That’s a tall request for such a simple thing, John,” Ben said and turned away from his corn fields. He marched across his driveway, the lawn in front of his house, and up to the wooden fence where he stopped to lean heavily on it. John followed, confused but patient, and reste
d his arms on it as well.

  Ben eyed his stable. “I have a couple of horses, but I don’t think I’d be getting’ the one back that I let you use. Not with what’s happenin’ out there, and if what you said is true, I don’t suppose you’d be comin’ back here at all either.”

  “I know,” John said evenly. “It’s stupid, but I really feel I need to do this and there’s only so much time I have left to do it.”

  “You lookin’ to die? We’ve all got missin’ family right now, but are you so ready to give up? Gonna ride off into the sunset?”

  “That’s not what this is about, Ben. It’s about finding family,” John stated. “The possibility that someone is still alive and that I didn’t try to help them is eating me up.”

  “What about everyone else, son, you ready to abandon them?” Ben laid a hand on John’s shoulder. “You that eager to play the hero?”

  “I am now, but that’ll probably change once I get back to San Alito.” John smiled at his self-deprecation. “But I need to know. For sure, and if it ends up I die because of it, well, it wouldn’t be your fault for letting me use a horse. It’d be my own damn fault for being so stupid.” A brief pause. “And I’d owe you a horse.”

  “Your friends won’t be too happy.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I wasn’t planning on telling them.” John leaned away from the fence, eyes slitting in the sunlight. “And I don’t want to steal one of your horses.”

  To John’s surprise, Ben gave a small chuckle. “Yes, that would not go over too well with me.”

  *****

  “Dinner!” Ben’s cry resonated throughout the entire home, catching everyone’s ears. The day had passed faster than the previous, darkness starting a slow creep across the farm.