Highway To Hell 2

by Armand Rosamilia

Randy could try to follow out the main door but there was nowhere to run. He couldn’t hide from the inevitable beating heading his way.

  “Hey, guys… Zara. Dinner isn’t until six, but feel free to steal a couple of cans of carrots. I won’t tell,” Randy said, casually putting his hand over a butter knife on the counter. It was all he had handy.

  Zara smiled unpleasantly as the two men spread out on either side of Randy.

  “I’ve been watching you,” Zara said.

  “I’m flattered. Maybe we could go out on a date,” Randy said. Zara was a decent-looking girl, though, in this harsh light, he noticed the thin scar running from her neck to her hairline on the left side. She’d been in a war but he wasn’t going to ask about it.

  “Maybe you can shut your fucking mouth,” one of the guys said. The two men were much bigger than Randy, and he had no doubt they could fight.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” Randy said. He put up his hands, hoping being a coward would disgust them enough they’d back off and leave him alone.

  No such luck.

  The guy to the right cocked his fist back but it was a ruse. The real blow came from the other guy, and it caught Randy in the side of the head.

  Randy went down to the ground and covered up for the kicks he knew were coming.

  Zara came forward and knelt down, still smiling.

  Randy looked her in the eyes. Maybe he could reason with her. What if she was just trying to scare him for some reason? Randy would try anything right now to stay alive.

  “I know you know where that fucking bitch is. I saw you with her. She killed my husband and, if I can’t get payback by shoving a blade up her ass, I’m going to do it to you. Understand?” Zara stood and put her hands on her hips.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Randy said.

  “Where is she?” Zara asked.

  Randy was about to spill everything he knew about Lyssa to save his own ass but the first kick came into his back and he cried out in pain.

  “I’m not going to ask you again,” Zara said.

  Randy had tears in his eyes as the next few kicks to his back and side rained down. Even if he wanted to tell Zara where Lyssa was, he couldn’t through the pain and the tears.

  “I know you’re a damn spy and the first chance you get you’ll signal her and whoever else is working with you and they’ll attack. I’m not stupid. Christoph can try to protect you all he wants but you’re not fooling me. Got it?” Zara rolled Randy over with her boot and her two goons began kicking his sides. Randy thought he heard a rib crack.

  Randy couldn’t cover up enough as the attack kept coming, his vision blurring until he finally closed his eyes. He was going to die on a wet kitchen floor, beaten by people he barely knew. For what? Not giving up Lyssa. Protecting a woman who’d abandoned him to this sick fate.

  “Back off, Zara.”

  It was a female voice.

  Randy opened his eyes as the attack stopped. A woman wielding a baseball bat, with three men behind her, was motioning for Zara to get away from Randy.

  “You don’t want to go there, Holly,” Zara said but she moved away from Randy’s body. Her two goons followed.

  “I already went there. Christoph told you to leave him alone.”

  “He’s spying on us and you’re all too stupid to see,” Zara said.

  “Get out,” Holly said. Three more men appeared with weapons. “I don’t want to bash your head in but I will if I have to. I don’t like you and you don’t like me. So I’ll make this easy on you: this guy is under my protection, as well as Christoph, now. That means you so much as look at him cross-eyed and I bash your ugly face in with this bat.”

  “I’m not the ugly one, bitch.” Zara shook her head. “This isn’t over.”

  Randy pushed up on one elbow and Zara gave him the middle finger before walking away, her men in tow.

  “Get him to my room. Now,” Holly said to the people with her. “We need to protect him.”

  “Thank you,” Randy mumbled as he was gently lifted.

  “Don’t waste your breath. We don’t give two shits about you. We’re going to use this attack as the excuse to run Zara and her cronies out of the warehouse. If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut. We all think you’re a spy, asshole,” Holly said.

  “I think my ribs are broken.” Randy winced in pain as they lifted his hurting body to a standing position.

  “Trust me… you’d know if they were broken. Especially a pussy like you. Stop your whining and move it.”

  Randy let them help him to walk, embarrassed he’d not only gotten his ass kicked but, on top of it a woman had saved his ass.

  * * * * *

  Someone was in the room with Randy. He slowly opened his eyes but it was dark. He had no clue what time it was or how long he’d slept since they’d placed his aching body on the bed and left.

  When he shifted his weight because his side hurt, he was startled by Holly’s voice.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “I guess.” Randy tried to pull up onto the pillows but it hurt too much. “How long have I been out?”

  “Six hours. Christoph came to see you but you were snoring. He didn’t want to wake you. Nothing is broken, by the way. You’ll be a mess of black and blue for awhile, though. They did a number on you,” Holly said.

  Randy couldn’t see Holly but he remembered what she looked like: tall and skinny, with short cropped dark hair and a pretty face. She had wide hips, too, and Randy had checked out her curves on a couple of occasions.

  Holly sat down on the bed and Randy could feel her leaning against his side. Her fingers danced lightly up his thigh and found his hand, wrapping fingers and giving a gentle squeeze.

  “How’s your strength?” Holly asked.

  “I’m fine,” Randy lied. His head was throbbing in time with his body, one mass of dull pain. “I think I need to get back to work.”

  “I had your shift in the kitchen covered. I told Christoph I’d keep you nearby at all times,” Holly said.

  “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? I get it,” Randy said and shuddered when her hand moved suddenly and brushed against his crotch in the dark. Maybe it was an accident, but he didn’t think so.

  Holly leaned forward and lifted his hand, putting it on her naked breast.

  “Where are your clothes?” Randy asked, knowing how stupid he sounded.

  “I left them by the door. Do you need help getting out of yours?”

  “I thought you hated me,” Randy said.

  “I do. But beggars can’t be choosers. I want to fuck and have a baby before I die. I’ve run out of options at this point. I saved your life for a reason,” Holly said.

  Randy’s mind was shouting for him to push her away and leave, never to return. He wasn’t going to be used like this. He had some pride, some shred of dignity. He was going to be a sperm donor for this woman? No thanks.

  He couldn’t stop squeezing her chest and she slipped his other hand between her legs. Randy forgot all about fighting her off.

  He forgot about his pride and Lyssa as Holly helped to get his clothes off.

  Chapter Fourteen

  If she pulled the trigger, she’d kill one or two of the bastards, but she willed herself to stop and observe. The warehouse was a hive of activity, with people coming and going inside the compound.

  Since her attack on the foraging group yesterday they’d tightened up security and no one was leaving. They were scared of what she could do, but, in order to get close enough to kill someone, she’d expose herself.

  Lyssa rolled over in the ditch and pulled a small bag of stale cashews from her jean pocket. The weather had turned mild and she was actually sweating with only a tight t-shirt. She’d pulled her wild hair back into a ponytail.

  What to do now? She could kill a couple but when they figured out where she was hiding they’d open fire. The pair on the roof with long-range weapons would blast her as soon as she tried to exit the
ditch, too.

  And yesterday she’d seen Randy inside, laughing with them. Getting close to some skinny tall bitch with a big ass. Lyssa was going to mark a special bullet for that slut.

  His convenience store location had been abandoned but, at first, she thought he’d been killed by a pack of zombies, since there was blood everywhere. A few bodies in the stockroom and on the street, too. But the zombies she killed inside weren’t Randy, and all the food and supplies he’d collected were gone.

  Now she knew where he’d been. Maybe he’d been attacked by a horde and had to escape, but there was no way he could carry everything on his own. Randy had had help, and Lyssa figured out where it came from.

  Had she abandoned him, and he’d met new friends? Would he tell them where she was or lead a party to kill her? Randy knew where her safe haven was. She couldn’t go back until she was sure they weren’t going to put together a force. It looked like she’d been replaced quickly, too.

  So far they’d kept inside the warehouse, but Lyssa knew they’d have to venture out, at some point, and find food and supplies. She’d be waiting. It was now more important than ever to kill every last one of them before they destroyed her.

  If she stopped killing them as soon as they ventured out, they’d get complacent again. Maybe drop their guard. Right now she was keeping them hidden, and shooting one at a time like this was going to take too long. Plus, she ran the risk of getting shot herself.

  There were other enemies in Harrisburg, anyway.

  The zombies coming south were getting thicker, and the main streets were clogged in spots by the undead. They had no idea how to climb or maneuver around anything, so in spots they were bottled up because of an abandoned car or a wall or other barrier.

  Lyssa studied the area around her and thought for awhile.

  Without too much trouble, she could manipulate the landscape to suit her needs if it came down to it, but she wondered how much work it would be and if the warehouse enemy would catch her before her plan was done.

  Why are you doing this again? Lyssa asked herself for the millionth time. She’d forced the group to stay inside. They no longer roamed the city freely, taking whatever they wanted. She could strip the rest of the supplies and anything else with ease now. At some point, they’d form a large group because they’d need to scavenge, and she’d be unable to fight so many. Picking off one or two at a time had done wonders for Lyssa.

  She had the city to herself if you didn’t count the zombies, and even they were becoming boring.

  On the northernmost end of the city she’d moved cars into position to funnel the undead into a building they couldn’t escape from. There were so many and they were like blind mice, none of them smart enough to turn and leave.

  There’s no point in messing with zombies, she thought. Eventually they’d rot away and end up a pile of bones. Who cared? This was never about the zombies. It was always about survival against fellow man. And Lyssa was going to end up at the top of the food chain if she had anything to say about it.

  Lyssa thought about hitting the road and never looking back, too. Head south to Georgia or Florida. Maybe it wasn’t so bad down there. Wouldn’t that be a bitch? She’s freezing her ass off in P.A. and trying to kill people so they didn’t take what little food was left, and, maybe a thousand miles south, civilization was still intact. People were sleeping in warm beds and going to jobs and having babies.

  She had enough vehicles and gas to get her to the tip of the United States. She could hit the Highway to Hell and be safe. Lyssa could be a distant memory, maybe become a boogeyman for future generations in Harrisburg. The elders would tell of the ghost who will take you in the night if you stray too far from camp.

  Lyssa liked the thought of being something to scare the children with.

  She was about to slink back to her hiding place on a nearby roof and wait, until it was getting dark, to head to one of her bases when she saw Randy again on the roof. The fucker was smiling and laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Lyssa set him up in her rifle sight and watched, as if she were standing a few feet away. Watched this man she’d given herself to flirting with another woman. He didn’t care about her. He never, ever cared. He wanted to get laid. She was a piece of ass to this douche bag.

  Pull the trigger, she thought. End him. Now.

  She didn’t, putting the rifle back down in disgust.

  You gave him up. You let him go, and now you’re mad at him for moving on? It’s your own fault, bitch. Lyssa hated the voices in her head, especially when they were right.

  As she crouched and went back a few feet, she saw movement on the left side of the compound, a lone person walking.

  The rifle came back up and Lyssa watched as the chick who usually led the hunting teams to flush her out went to the fence and looked around.

  “Please tell me you’re trying to leave,” Lyssa whispered.

  When the woman scaled the fence, Lyssa chuckled. What a dumb bitch.

  This woman was special because Lyssa had watched her raid one of her hideouts not too long ago. She thought she was a bad ass because she surrounded herself with guys with big guns, but Lyssa knew she wasn’t shit.

  Lyssa toyed with shooting the bitch in the head as she dropped down to the other side but decided to follow instead. She was curious to see where she was headed, and, at any point, she could kill her. She also wanted to know what she was carrying in the bag over her shoulder.

  A block down the road the woman turned into an alley between two warehouses, the fence between long ripped apart. There were no zombies or prying eyes.

  Lyssa kept well behind and stopped to follow with her scope. The woman, looking around first, went inside the building through a side door.

  Now what? Lyssa got into position across the street and waited. As soon as the bitch came out, she’d get a bullet between her pretty little eyes.

  Lyssa heard something moving behind her and turned to see two zombies shuffling in her direction. They’d seen her and, luckily, one of them had bumped into the metal sheets against a nearby fence or they would’ve been on top of her.

  Pulling her knife from her boot, Lyssa made quick work of the pair. It wasn’t even a fight anymore. She knew just how slow they were and could methodically jab the blade into their foreheads without getting blood or gore on her anymore.

  By the time she turned back, the woman was already exited from the door and was running back to the fence.

  Lyssa could try a long shot but, if she missed, she wouldn’t get a second chance, and she’d alert the compound she was still around.

  She looked at the door before glancing back to see the bitch up and over the fence.

  Lyssa made sure there were no more surprises in the area before taking her time and getting across the street and to the door.

  When she turned the handle, it was unlocked but she didn’t pull it open just yet.

  She had a flashlight on her, which she took out. The rifle was slung to her back. Inside it might be close quarters and a rifle would be no use. She had a handgun and her knives were within easy reach, if need be.

  Lyssa opened the door and shone her light inside. The bitch had only been inside a few minutes so she hadn’t gone too far into the bowels of the building.

  The hallway was clear and so were the first two open doorways she passed.

  A metallic clank stopped Lyssa in her tracks.

  She took slow, quiet steps with the handgun and flashlight leading the way.

  Three doors down, she stopped and couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Four zombies were chained to the wall together.

  It was a family. A man and a woman with two young children. They were all handcuffed and chains of varying lengths and sizes were bound around their bodies.

  Lyssa nearly threw up when she saw what they were doing, though: ignoring her because they were chewing on the carcass of a dead squirrel. Their hands were bound but they could all g
et to the center of the barren room to feast, and by the look of the bloodstains on the floor, they’d been fed for quite some time.

  “Is this your family, bitch? Mommy and daddy? Your brother and sister, or maybe your own brats?” Lyssa whispered. She watched, fascinated, as the four ate their last meal.

  Lyssa pulled out a knife and slowly walked around the room, trying to figure out which one to kill first. Once she was finished she’d paint a message in their blood on the wall for the bitch to see.

  “Can I have your attention?” Lyssa asked before plunging her blade into the little boy’s skull.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “If it is Lyssa, I can talk to her,” Randy said to Christoph. “She is insane but she can still be reasoned with. I swear.”

  Christoph glanced at Holly, standing off to the side of the roof.

  “Why should I trust you to leave the compound so soon? You know our layout and our numbers. How do I know you won’t lead her and a team of your friends back inside to kill us?” Christoph asked.

  “I’m already inside, Christoph. I could’ve killed you and Zara in your sleep ten times already. I’m as sick as you are about this. I really am,” Randy said.

  Word had spread quickly about Zara’s family.

  No one talked about it and the group stayed away from the nearby building, but every few days Zara would hop the fence or visit before or after a scouting mission and feed them whatever road kill she could find. It was her family: mom and dad and two siblings. She’d cared for them from the beginning and was holding on in case a cure was found, probably knowing it would never happen.

  As long as she kept them chained and took the proper precautions, no one said a word about it. No one complained. Randy knew part of it had to do with fear when it came to Zara, too.

  Randy was definitely scared of her and now she seemed to have gone over the deep end. It had taken six strong men to keep Zara from punching Randy in the face a second time, and his broken nose still stung from the sucker punch.

  “I had nothing to do with the killing of the, uh, zombies,” Randy said. He looked around to make sure no one was listening to their private conversation. “Look, I hate Zara just as much as I know you do. But this was not my doing. I’m a peaceful guy. I like Holly, even though she really doesn’t like me.”