Highway To Hell 2

by Armand Rosamilia

  He missed his mom. Even the nagging, which he knew she was right about. He’d been a slacker his entire life and used dad’s death as the convenient excuse not to do anything with his life.

  Are you really doing much now, dude? He hated his inner voice because it sounded like his mom and it was always spot on.

  The key was held in place over the door with a small piece of faded duct tape. Randy unlocked the door and swung it open with a slight squeal.

  If Lyssa was home and downstairs, she knew he was coming.

  He stepped inside, wishing he had kept the rifle, even if just for show.

  Nothing moved inside.

  Randy walked into the kitchen and looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t know what he was expecting. A horde of zombies? Lyssa with a shotgun aimed at his head?

  “Fuck it. Lyssa, are you home?” Randy yelled, breaking the silence. If he was going to die, he might as well get it over with. He wouldn’t fight back. It wasn’t worth it.

  There was no answer.

  “I need to talk to you. I’m unarmed,” he yelled.

  He walked into the living room and glanced out of the front window. All he saw was nature trying to take over the lawns and slowly destroy the houses.

  She wasn’t hiding in a closet in the rest of the house but he did notice she’d been busy stocking up on more supplies. Maybe she’d found a food distribution center, because one of the back bedrooms was overflowing with restaurant quality tortilla chip packages. There were twelve bags to a box and Randy could see at least fifty boxes.

  “You’ll have nachos for a year,” Randy said. He wondered if Lyssa would make them for him and realized how pitiful he was.

  In the bathroom, propped up against the wall next to the toilet, were six shotguns. Three boxes of shells were piled on the sink. Randy toyed with the idea of taking one and loading it in case Lyssa came home and wasn’t friendly, but figured, if she showed up in her own home and he was handling a shotgun, she’d shoot first and ask questions later.

  Back in the kitchen, he opened a cabinet and found a box of animal crackers. He smiled. When was the last time he’d bitten the heads of an elephant or a lion? Even if they were stale they’d still be delicious.

  Randy opened the box and pulled out a giraffe. When he bit the head off, Randy sighed. They were just as he remembered them, even though they were old.

  There was an unopened bottle of water on the counter, which he opened and washed down the animal crackers with. He finished the box and the water, expecting Lyssa to come home at any moment.

  Randy was bored.

  He went into the living room. There was a pile of books next to the couch but, when he looked through them, nothing looked interesting. He wasn’t much of a reader, anyway. Who needed books when you had movies and videogames for your imagination?

  “I’m going to take a seat on the couch until you’re ready to come out of hiding, Lyssa,” Randy said loudly. When he was down, his feet up on the coffee table, he sighed and closed his eyes. “I miss you, Lyssa. I really do.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The barrel of the shotgun was warm against his face and Randy snapped his eyes open. He must’ve fallen asleep on the couch.

  Lyssa was home and she looked pissed. It wasn’t just the weapon pushed up against his cheek, either. Her eyes were glowing with rage.

  “I’m going to get through one day without a gun to my head,” Randy said. He smiled up at Lyssa. “How have you been?”

  “I’ll be better when I shoot you. The only reason I haven’t already is because I don’t want to have to clean blood and brains off of my couch. I really like the pattern,” Lyssa said.

  Randy tried to pull his head back but he was already lying down and had nowhere to go. He wondered if she was going to use one of the guns from the bathroom or if this was one she carried with her.

  “Before you kill me, can we talk?” Randy asked.

  “Sure.” Lyssa pulled the shotgun away and walked backwards, finding the chair and sitting. The shotgun was dipped to the ground but her finger was near the trigger. “I’d love to hear you justify everything you’ve done to me.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Randy said.

  The shotgun came up, aimed at his manhood.

  Randy sat up on the couch and did his best to tuck everything important in, covering his crotch with his hands, as if it would block a shotgun shell.

  “I saw you with another woman. I watched you laughing and joking with the enemy,” Lyssa said.

  “They busted into the convenience store and set zombies on my ass. It was either surrender or get bitten. I chose to live. Is that so horrible?” Randy knew he was skating on thin ice but, if he could keep Lyssa talking, maybe she wouldn’t kill him.

  “Did you fuck her?” Lyssa asked.

  “No. Of course not,” Randy lied. There was no way he was admitting to sleeping with Holly. Besides, Holly was using him as a sperm donor. There was no love or passion or… a bunch of other lame excuses.

  “I’m going to kill you and then go back and kill every last one of them,” Lyssa said. She stood and aimed the shotgun at his head. “But I’m saving your new girlfriend for last. Maybe I’ll drag her out here to see your rotting corpse. I might hang it from a tree to keep people away, too. You’ll be with me forever.”

  “I’d rather be with you forever alive. It would be nicer that way,” Randy said. He wondered if crying would help. It wasn’t too far a stretch right now and he was holding it back. Would Lyssa take pity on him or pull the trigger because he was weak?

  “You can’t talk your way out of this,” Lyssa said.

  “I’m not trying to. If these are our last few minutes, I want to at least have a normal and decent conversation with you, though. I really did miss you,” Randy said.

  The barrel dipped a couple of inches before Lyssa righted it. She squinted and shook her head.

  “You don’t get to say things like that,” Lyssa said.

  “Why not? It’s true. You kicked me out for no reason. Remember? I wanted to stay and be happy with you. We could’ve put Harrisburg in our rearview mirror and died of old age in this development. You keep going back there and I can’t figure out why,” Randy said.

  “I have my reasons,” Lyssa said. She looked like she was about to cry and Randy knew he was getting to her. If he could manipulate the situation, he might survive.

  “Are they such important reasons you keep putting yourself in danger? You can justify going back but I don’t get it. I never will. To me there is no justification for messing with those people. They’re trying to survive the same as you. They aren’t hunting you,” Randy said.

  “Yes, they are.”

  Randy had to agree. “Fine. But why? Because you started killing everyone who stepped outside the warehouse fences? You killed Zara’s family and pissed her off royally.”

  Lyssa smirked. “They were fucking zombies. Seriously, are we going to cry about some dead people? Did that bitch think she was going to save them? Eventually they’d rot and the chains would slip off. Then you’d have another bunch of them trying to kill. No thanks. Our job in life is to stay alive. She’s an idiot. I have a special bullet for her ass, too.”

  “I can be the go-between for peace,” Randy said.

  “You’re trying to make me laugh?”

  “No. I’m serious. We can end all of this right now. Today. I can go to the warehouse waving a white flag or something,” Randy said.

  “Very dramatic.”

  “Very necessary. There are thirty of them with guns. You’ve survived this far, which is great,” Randy said.

  Lyssa laughed. “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting this. There used to be twice as many. Between the zombies and my aim, I’ve cut their number down. I’ll keep doing it until there aren’t any left.”

  “And then what?”

  Lyssa looked confused. “And then they’re all dead.”

 
“What’s the point? All you’ll have is more zombies in town with no one else to kill them. You can’t seriously think you can take out every zombie in Pennsylvania. More and more are heading through town each day, too. If you can bury the hatchet and work together with them, everyone will live longer,” Randy said.

  “I don’t need them,” Lyssa said. She sat back down in the chair.

  “I think you do.” Randy knew he was pushing it and might get her pissed off enough to end his life, but he had to gamble. It was time to stop running away and face it head-on. If it killed him… so be it.

  “You’re not making any sense,” Lyssa said. She was quieter now and the gun was pointed at the carpet. “I don’t need anyone.”

  Randy grinned when the kitten slipped out from under the couch. He’d noticed it a couple of hours before he’d nodded off. Lyssa had a new friend.

  “I didn’t know you were an animal lover,” Randy said.

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Let me find out. Let me into your world, especially now. What happens if you kill me and all these people and find out you made a grave mistake? There’s no going back. No do-over’s in life. You’ll be left with zombies and marauding groups who will try to kill you. These people aren’t the enemy and you know it. They’re a distraction so you don’t get lonely,” Randy said.

  “Shut up.” Lyssa stood but the shotgun hung at her side. “I want you to leave and never come back.”

  Randy stood. His inner voice yelled to quit while he was ahead and walk out the door. Live to fight another day. Maybe she’d come around at a later date. Keep your mouth shut.

  “I’ll go but I’m coming back to start a new life with you. And I’m not going to be alone, either. You have too many resources at your disposal. People are going to starve soon. They won’t survive another winter in a warehouse,” Randy said.

  “Winter is over.”

  “Crazy thing about weather and this planet: the seasons never stop coming and going. It’s finally nice now and the grass has been growing but the snow will come back again. Soon enough. You’ll sit in your cozy home with all this food going to waste and have nothing to show for it but a kitten,” Randy said. He walked to the front door and opened it. “I’ll be back in two days. If the front gate is unlocked, I’ll know you’ve done the right thing.”

  “If it’s still barred?”

  “I’ll know the first bullet is coming for my head,” Randy said and left.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was worse than Randy thought. As he parked his vehicle a couple of blocks away, he could see the smoke. He rounded a building and saw the fence hadn’t been fully repaired, a few zombies staggering in the compound.

  Am I too late? After all this, everyone is dead? Randy didn’t have a weapon on him but could see several rifles and a fireman’s axe on the other side of the fence, along with mangled bodies.

  Randy squatted and moved to the fence, watching the top of the warehouse for any movement. He didn’t want to get shot.

  As he picked up the axe and a rifle, slinging it over his back for future use if it was loaded or as a club if empty, he saw the side door to the warehouse was open.

  Two bodies were on the threshold, both moving slowly.

  Randy ran to the door and finished off both zombies, who he recognized as former members of the group. How many more would he find, turned and going to attack him?

  The main room was dark but he could see bodies on the ground, blood trails on the floor, and at least three zombies.

  If everyone is dead, what’s the point of me staying and getting bitten? Randy took a step back to leave when he saw one of the zombies coming his way now, and he recognized him.

  It was one of Zara’s goons and his throat had been ripped apart, strips of red meat hanging down his chest.

  Randy was going to take care of this douche bag first. It was payback, even if he was already dead. He entered the warehouse and chopped into the goon’s head, the skull splitting where the axe struck.

  The zombie kept coming, undeterred, and Randy couldn’t get the axe out. It was wedged in the skull, brain and gore leaking out.

  Randy took the rifle from his shoulder and slammed it into the zombie’s head, striking the axe and knocking the weapon loose. Two more strikes with the rifle and the zombie finally dropped, all rage and un-life gone.

  Shapes were moving towards Randy from the far corners of the warehouse and he realized there were maybe twenty zombies to contend with.

  There’s still time to run, coward, he thought. Still time to slink back to Lyssa and apologize and beg her forgiveness and live the rest of your life in pace.

  What if someone was still alive, though? If he could save even one person, he’d feel better about himself. For once. Randy was sick of running. He’d thought after Baltimore he’d manned up and could face his fears, but the rage over Raven had given him a temporary high. An adrenaline rush of anger and strength he really didn’t have, and doubted he ever would.

  He was what he was, and it wasn’t much.

  Randy decided to stay and fight, even if it meant dying and becoming a zombie. He couldn’t go back to Lyssa without someone he’d rescued.

  The axe would get stuck if he tried to cleave a head off, so he turned it for the next zombie and sliced through most of the neck. A kick pushed the zombie away and the next one was missing a leg from an axe slice.

  Randy used the rifle to keep zombies at bay and the axe to clear the space in front, trying to move to the stairs leading to the office where the PA system had been.

  The door to the office was closed. He wanted to get to the roof initially, but he could see a few zombies up on the stairs and the roof hatch open. At least two zombies were on the roof but maybe they’d fall into the warehouse soon enough and splatter.

  He thought, if there were any survivors, the office was the logical place to hide. He just needed to get across the warehouse and up the stairs and hope, if there was anyone alive, they wouldn’t shoot him in the face if he opened the door.

  A zombie stepped in his path and Randy sliced through another rotting neck. Even after all this time, the smell and sight of the zombies made his stomach turn. As the stench leaking from the hole where the neck had been hit Randy’s nostrils, he began dry-heaving, keeping two zombies as far away as possible with the rifle while he tried to get his shit together.

  By the time he stopped and kept his last meal down, there were four zombies surrounding him. Randy went into what he liked to call berserker mode, however, to anyone else, it would look like he was being spastic and flailing his arms and legs.

  It got the job done. The axe struck a couple of the zombies, even though Randy wasn’t aiming at them. A kick broke an ankle and dropped a zombie to the floor, where the rifle butt caught it in the head and put it down for good.

  When he was done, Randy was exhausted but he had a path to the stairs, which he walked to while trying to catch his breath.

  A glance to the left and the right showed more zombies coming at him, so he took the steps two at a time despite his heart pumping from the exertion of fighting zombies.

  Randy wondered why he wasn’t just running for the exit right now. Even if someone was alive and breathing in the office, they probably didn’t want to see him. In their eyes, he’d caused this mess, and he supposed in a way they were right.

  He hesitated halfway up and looked back at the warehouse. There were zombies heading his way but, not too many, and, as slow as they were, he could get around most and make it out the door. He could escape and never look back. What if he got upstairs and everyone was a zombie?

  You can’t go back to Lyssa empty-handed and you know it. You can man up and rescue anyone alive or forever run away from every problem and confrontation and live alone and die alone, Randy thought.

  He stopped thinking so hard about it and ran the rest of the way up the steps even though he was still breathing too heavy for a man in his early
twenties. He needed to work on his cardio.

  The door was closed so he knocked, not knowing what else to do. If there was anyone inside, they’d heard him coming up the steps anyway.

  “Hello? Anyone inside? I’m here to rescue you,” Randy said.

  The door opened and yet another gun was aimed at his face.

  Chapter Twenty

  Zara pulled Randy inside the office, pressed the gun to his cheek, and slammed the door.

  “Great move, asshole. Now every zombie remembers the fresh meat is hiding upstairs,” Zara said.

  Holly, standing in the corner, merely nodded at Randy before turning away.

  Christoph shook his head, seated at the desk.

  “Hey, everybody,” Randy said, not even bothering to try to move away from the gun in his face. It was so common it didn’t even bug him at this point. “Are you the only people left?”

  Christoph nodded and stood.

  “Shut up,” Zara said and took his axe and rifle away, putting it down on the office desk.

  Three people had survived out of more than thirty.

  “Put the gun down. It isn’t even loaded,” Christoph said.

  Randy swept his hands to take the gun but Zara jumped back and shook it.

  “I can still smash your fucking head in, you traitor,” Zara said.

  “I came back to help. I’m here to take you with me,” Randy said.

  “No thanks.” Zara crossed her arms. “You’re the reason we’re in the situation. If it wasn’t for you and your girlfriend, we’d still be alive.”

  “But for how long? Food is running scarce and Harrisburg has been picked clean. There are still bands of outlaws and thugs on every highway in and out. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds you, and you don’t have unlimited ammo,” Randy said.

  “We have no ammo,” Holly said.