Don shook himself like a dog trying to dry off, and turned the key again. The motor sputtered, but didn’t catch. He turned it again, and the engine started, but steam leaked from under the hood. He slammed the gear shifter, and the van rocked forward, rolling over several walkers. Don grimaced. He didn’t like killing innocent people.
He swerved back onto the shoulder of the road, fishtailed between two cars, and jumped over the curb back onto the road. Tires screamed as the rubber caught the blacktop, and the van listed, and everyone got tossed in their seats. Don compensated and brought the van to the center of the street. Ahead the turn to the interstate beckoned, but he was heading back the way they’d come.
“What the hell was that?” asked Lester. “You okay?”
Don shot sidelong glances at his team, but didn’t speak. His PTSD reared its ugly head at the worst times, but until now, he’d been able to keep it a secret. Sometimes he’d be crippled for days, but this time, he’d been lucky. Maureen’s voice broke the spell. Don didn’t answer, and Lester went back to staring at the map, preparing for all contingencies as the tension in the car eased.
They were rear-ended, and the van slid across the road and almost flipped. Don spun the wheel, and for an instant, the van balanced on two tires. It came down with a crash, and a flurry of sparks. In the rearview, Don saw a line of vehicles in pursuit.
“We’re not out of this yet,” Don said. “Tony, take the shotgun and get in the back window. Fire on my command only. I’m trying to save ammo, and I only want you to fire when absolutely necessary. Use the fire bombs if need be.”
“10-4,” Tony said.
“Maureen, grab the M16, and get ready to fire on either side if I need you,” Don said. She lifted the M16 off the floor and held it attentively before her. “The safety is on the side there. Switch it to single shot.”
Two cars, an old Mustang and a newer Honda Civic, were right on their tail. A wound-marred walker drove the Mustang, and it appeared to be concentrating on the road. So far, they hadn’t fired on them, and Don saw no guns. The sleepwalkers had their car windows closed, and most likely had the AC blasting.
Then they fired at them. Don wasn’t sure what it was at first, then a small hole appeared in the upper right corner of the cracked windshield. “Everybody down!” Don yelled, as he nudged the steering wheel back and forth in small arcs so as not to give them a steady target. “Tony, can you tell where the shots are coming from?” In the rearview, he saw Tony peeking through the shattered rear window. Another hole spidered the windshield as a second bullet just missed Don.
“The passenger in the Mustang fired right through their windshield,” said Tony.
“Take out the Mustang.” Then Don did his best Bill Lumergh impression. “And if you can tangle-up the Honda in the process, that’d be great.”
Several tense seconds passed, and Tony yelled, “Slow up now.”
Don slowed, and Tony lit a firebomb, popped up, and tossed it at the car. The bottle shattered, but there was no explosion and no fire. He lit another fuse and threw a second gas bomb. Nothing. Third time was the charm. As the gas bomb exploded, and blew out the rest of the Mustang’s windshield, the car swerved and caught the rear bumper of the Honda. Both cars spun out of control. The Mustang disappeared into the mangrove trees and was lost from view as flames spread across the vegetation. The Honda slammed into the curb and came to a stop, clouds of black smoke pouring from under the hood.
Don stabbed the gas pedal, and the van jumped forward. The trail of smoke leaking from the engine compartment had grown, and the temperature gauge steadily climbed. They would have to change vehicles, and that was worrisome. Finding and starting a new car would take time, and while doing so, they’d be vulnerable.
“Come on, baby, hold together,” Don said.
“Well aren’t you the cliché factory today,” Maureen said.
“What?” Saura said. She hadn’t spoken since the chase began.
Tony yelled, “Star Wars and Office Space.” Saura still looked confused. “Guess you haven’t seen those movies,” he said.
The van vibrated badly, and the steering wheel shook in his hands, but Don laughed. “We’re getting chased by monsters and talking movies. I couldn’t have asked for a better crew. I mean it. No matter what happens, it’s been a pleasure, folks.”
The van rattled, wind hissed through the broken windows, and no one spoke. He’d seen a few things as he made his way across the US; people dying horrible deaths, things that made no sense, and some pure evil. But it was the people that kept him going; the innocents, most of whom were ready to kick ass if someone just believed in them. Had he been lucky? Maybe. He preferred to believe humans exceeded expectations when their asses were on the line.
In the rearview, Don watched the next two vehicles coming to take their turn. Industrial buildings ran along one side of the road now, and thickets of hibiscus and mangrove ran along the other. Lester sat in the passenger seat, scanning the road. He looked confused, and Don asked, “You okay? Been mighty quiet.”
“I’m all right,” Lester said.
But he wasn’t. “You been hit?”
“Just a scratch,” he said. Then he turned and showed Don where a bullet had passed through his forearm. “I don’t think it hit anything.”
“Tie it off. You don’t want any exposed wounds,” Don said.
“Turn there,” Lester said.
They passed over the concrete arch bridges that led to the housing development they’d been through. Don slowed a little, then yelled, “Hold on.”
He stomped on the break, and the van skidded and fishtailed. The car behind them, an old Ford Taurus, crashed into the rear of the van. Don made the turn at the last instant, leaving both cars in a cloud of dust and steam.
Saura sat with Jessie on her lap, and Tank and Tristin on either side like a mother protecting her three cubs. Fear made her look like a child. Her tender features pulled tight, her eyes wide.
Don glanced at Lester, who was still pondering over the map. “What’s the problem?”
“There’s a long road that leads through the Everglades to the H-69 site. I can’t find it on this map, and there’s no way I’ll be able to find the entrance,” Lester said.
“Are you shitting me? You said you knew how to get there?” Don yelled. Don was regretting the decision not to find a GPS, despite the slim odds of it helping. He didn’t think private government roads were available on standard GPS.
“I do, but via the Glades. Jerry and I took his skiff to a small forest, and we hiked through it and hit the road, where a buddy of his picked us up. The road runs north to south, and I remember how to get there, but to do it, we need to go by boat,” said Lester.
Don relaxed a little, the tension leaving his body like a gust of wind. He had thought this might happen, and had already come to terms with the idea. Out of the dust and smoke behind them came the Honda and five new vehicles, one of which was a pickup filled with walkers. The stream of smoke and steam coming from under the hood had lessened as Don eased up on the van, but as he pressed down the gas pedal, black smoke joined the white. The temperature gauge was almost in the red, and Don didn’t think the van would last much longer.
“Lester, look for a place for us to bail,” Don said.
Lester nodded. Houses raced past on both sides of the road as Don pushed the van hard. A Jeep Wrangler with the top off came up behind them. A walker stood in the back holding onto the roll bar with one hand, and he had a pistol in the other. The Jeep bounced and jumped over every depression and bump in the road, and Don didn’t think the walker could hit them.
The Jeep rear-ended the van, but Don was able to keep control, and stay on the road. Gunshots rang out above the screaming engines, but Don couldn’t determine where the bullets had gone. They hadn’t hit them. “Tony,” Don yelled.
Tony was up in an instant, and the boom of the shotgun made Tristin scream. The Jeep veered to the left, jumped the curb, ran acro
ss a lawn, and smashed into a house. Flames rose from the wreckage, vast clouds of black smoke filling the air.
The Honda returned. Tony fired again, and the small car turned sharply to the right. Its tires caught, and the car flipped over, coming to rest on its roof and spinning off the road into a thicket of saw palmetto.
“All these god-dammed places look the same,” Lester yelled. “We need to take a closer look.”
“We’re coming up on that loop section were the road goes around an island in a circle with outlets on both ends. I can drive around the block, drop a scout, and take our friends on a wild goose chase while our scout finds a house and a car to make our switch.” Don’s plan wasn’t the best, he knew that, but it was all they had.
“I’ll go,” Maureen said.
Don wasn’t surprised, but the gasps and sighs he heard made him he think he might be the only one. The woman was tough as nails, this was obvious. “Lester is wounded, and Tony is doing an awesome job keeping them off my ass,” said Don. He swerved around turns, and tore through the neighborhood. “You’d have to get out of the vehicle and disappear without them seeing you. Investigate until you find a house we can go to that has a functional vehicle that can hold all of us.”
“Then what?” Maureen said.
“Find a garbage pail and put it in the road in front of the house you select. I’ll lead them away from where I drop you off, then come back in ten minutes,” Don said.
“Ten minutes,” Maureen said.
“That’s all I got,” Don said. “The van won’t go any longer. I’ll drop everyone and keep going. Then I’ll ditch the van and work my way back. Be ready to go when I get there.”
“I can hotwire a car, so no keys necessary,” Tony said.
Don made a wide turn that led back the way they had just come, except on the other side of the development. “When I make the sharp turn at the corner, I’ll stop. There’s a fence there. Jump it and lie flat, then work your way up the street. Give Lester the M16.” She complied. Don slammed the gas pedal to the floor, and the van sprang forward with everything it had. “You can do this. I know you can.”
Maureen looked at him with frightened eyes. Don smiled at her. “You can do this.” He turned the van hard, and brought it to a stop. “Now!”
Saura opened the side door, and Maureen jumped out, followed by Tank. “No,” Maureen yelled, but it was too late. Don pulled away, and left her in a cloud of dust.
“You see her,” Don asked. He stared out the front windshield, getting ready to make another hairpin turn.
“Yeah, she’s gonna make it. Tank went with her,” said Lester.
“That’s my boy,” Don said. Jessie barked incessantly, and it took both Saura and Tristin to calm the animal.
“They’re on the fence, and over,” Lester said.
The rearview was still empty. As Don made the right, heading west again, the first car appeared behind them. He backed off the gas and let the van coast a little. He wanted to let the walkers catch up, so they’d all follow him out of the neighborhood. Don scanned the side of the road, looking for likely spots for Maureen, but everything went by in a blur.
Instead of taking the wide turn, and heading back around the block, he turned left, went over a land bridge, and entered another section of the housing development. The houses were smaller here, and less elaborate and not all the properties had canal access.
The pickup appeared behind them, followed by four more cars. Don swerved, and the van listed with each sharp turn of the wheel. Black smoke covered the windshield, and the smell of burning plastic filled the van.
“Listen up, folks,” Don said. “If this thing dies before we make it back to Maureen, I’ll head for the nearest house. Make sure you stay with me. There will be no going back.”
The orderly development fell away, and older, ramshackle houses appeared. Don deemed he’d gone far enough, and he looked for a place to turn around. If he could lose them, so much the better.
He turned out onto a main road, and was sorry he had. Cars, garbage, the remains of houses and stores lay scattered across the road, making it impassable. He veered right, jumped a curb, and careened down the sidewalk. The van thumped and shook badly, and Lester said, “The rear driver’s side tire is out. Blew out when you jumped the curb.”
Their speed dropped, and the pickup moved alongside them. A bullet whizzed through the van, but hit no one. Don stomped on the break, and the van skidded to a stop with a squeal of rubber.
The pickup passed them by, and the van behind them swerved, and just missed crushing them. Don floored the VW, and the flat tire ripped at the pavement as it spun on the rim, and sent up plumes of black toxic smoke. Soon the entire area was bathed in a noxious cloud.
Don turned the van around and headed back the way they’d come. Two of the cars were still coming on hard, and for an instant, Don played a deadly game of chicken. Knowing the brainless walkers wouldn’t know to back down, Don jumped the curb at the last instant and went around them, blowing two more tires in the process. Tony took this opportunity to use his last two firebombs, and their explosion created a wall of fire between them and their pursuers.
The VW barely moved, as it loped forward with three flat tires. Nothing emerged from the black smoke, and Don pushed the van one last time. He worked his way back to Maureen, the van sliding and heaving as it went its final mile. Ahead was the corner where they’d dropped Maureen, but the van didn’t make it. It died with a sputter, and a puff of smoke, and came to a stop along the curb twenty houses shy of the end of the street. “Everyone out. Follow me.”
They grabbed their stuff, leapt from the van, and ran across the nearest lawn, disappearing through a gate into a backyard. Jessie whimpered at the rumble of vehicles in the distance, and Don knew they’d find the van and come after them. Don took the M16 from Lester, and said, “Let’s go.”
They worked their way along the canal, going from yard to yard, doing their best to stay out of sight. The sound of the approaching vehicles was loud, and Don figured the walkers would find the van any minute. They passed about ten houses, and they were close to the turn, so they went to the front of the house and looked back up the road.
The pickup parked next to the van, and the walkers spilled out onto the road. Three cars, a white Chevy Lumina, a black luxury sedan, and a blue Nissan Sentra were driving slowly up the street, searching for them.
“Back,” Don said, and they hid in the backyard they’d just come through. “It should take the searchers a few minutes to get here.”
An old man and young boy watched from a window. The man held a sign which read, “Please don’t make me shoot you. Stay away.” Don was happy to see people were staying inside, and heeding the quarantine order. He wondered how many people remained locked up in their houses with only the standard radio broadcast to inform them of what was happening. These were the people that had a chance to live.
There were gunshots out in the road, and Don snuck through a patch of hibiscus bushes to investigate. The walkers from the pickup were still coming up the street, and in minutes, they would be on them. They needed to cross the road to get to Maureen, and Don didn’t see how they’d do that without the sleepwalkers seeing them. He turned to Lester, who was grimacing in pain from the bullet wound. “I’ll distract them. When I’m clear, go find Maureen and get ready to go. I’ll meet up with you.”
Lester looked skeptical. “How long should we wait for you?”
Don pulled the packets of money wrapped in canvas from his pocket and gave it to Lester. “Here’s the sample in case I don’t make it. You know where to go. Give me fifteen minutes, not a second more,” said Don.
Before Lester could protest, Don skirted the bushes alongside the house, and worked his way across the front yard. When he was certain the walkers could see him, he yelled, “Yo! Buttheads! Come get me!” It only took a few seconds for the sleepwalkers to notice him, and mindlessly charge toward him. With a chuckle, Don ran for his
life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maureen lay in a flowerbed, staring up at the cloud-streaked sky. Tank nestled next to her like a puppy, his head resting on her arm. The air was sweet with roses and spider lilies.
“What were you thinking, you ass?” she said to the dog. Tank licked her face, and Maureen hugged him.
The sound of cars faded as the walkers chased the van. She peeked through the fence, verified they were gone, shot to her feet, and ran for the closest house, Tank jogging beside her. She had the knife she’d taken off Drago, but if she had to use it in hand-to-hand combat, she was doomed. The guns were in the van, and that was fine with her. She intended to rely on stealth, speed, and smarts.
She passed the first two houses, as there were clearly occupied. They waved from the windows, held up notes, but Maureen didn’t have time. Her mental clock told her she had already used three of her ten minutes. The third house looked like a possibility until she saw the walker sitting on the steps in the foyer when Tank starting barking. The next house was locked up tight, and the windows were boarded. Its owners had clearly made a run for it.
The next house seemed promising. It looked like all the others: accented stucco with an arch leading to an entrance breezeway. The front door on this house stood open, the screen door flapping in the wind. She pulled her knife, and warily made her way up the steps to the front door. Tank waited by the driveway, watching and sniffing. Everything appeared quiet. Whatever had rolled through the house was long gone. She sheathed her knife, ran into the house, and through the kitchen to the garage. There she found a classic Corvette covered with a custom cover, and an empty parking space. Maureen opened the garage door, collected Tank, and headed up the street.
The next house was locked down, but when she knocked on the door, no one appeared in any of the windows. She figured she had three minutes left, and she’d made no progress. She kicked the door with everything she had, and it didn’t budge. Tank whined as she ran down the steps, and around back. A fishing boat sat docked on the canal, and sliding glass doors ran along the back of the house.
Awake Page 21
