by David Rogers
“Okay then.” Lonnie lowered his hands slowly. “Pumps working?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Jessica said, lowering the gun but keeping it in her hand. It was so heavy she wasn’t sure what would happen if she did fire it. It seemed like it would likely knock her around like an enraged horse, and she reminded herself for the twenty-first time to read the damn manual and at least fire it once so she could be certain she knew how. “It’s not taking my credit card.”
He nodded, looking at the store. “Been inside? The pumps probably just need to be turned on from the register.”
Jessica glanced at store, then quickly back to him. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“Okay. So, I’m going to go inside and see if I can get them working.” He paused, as if waiting to hear any objection she might raise. Jessica just blinked at him, knowing she was coming off like she was slow in the head, but not sure what to say. She knew his simple statement shouldn’t leave her so uncertain. It wasn’t like he was saying anything complicated.
“Alright then. Sit tight.” Lonnie said after a moment, nodding again and turning. He trudged across the parking lot to the open doors and paused, clearly looking around. His right hand drifted down to the holster on his belt, and Jessica found herself starting to lift her own pistol back up. But he didn’t draw the gun. Instead, he stepped inside, moving slowly in an odd rocking gait. She watched him slide along the register island that was positioned in the middle of the store, then behind the counter. His head dipped as he studied the controls there.
As she watched him, Jessica realized with a start she hadn’t checked the parking lot in a long time. Hastily she looked around wildly, the icy fingers gripping her back making her movements panicked, but no zombies were in view. She looked again, then a third time, then bent slightly to look inside her car. “Candy Bear, you’re still helping mommy keep an eye out for anything bad, right?”
“Yes.” Candice said, nodding so solemnly it would have been funny if Jessica wasn’t so hysterically reassured by the girl’s sincerity.
“Good. Keep watching. The man’s trying to make the pumps work, then we’ll get some gas.”
“Okay.” Candice said, turning to look out her window again. There were a few spots that could still be seen through, places where the cracks Rebecca Johnson had caused didn’t convert the window into an opaque mess. Candice peered through one carefully, studying the pavement beyond the cracked window.
Jessica straightened and surveyed the parking lot again, then turned back to the store. She saw Lonnie look up at her after several seconds, then he moved to the edge of the counter closest to the open doors. “Try it now!” he shouted out to her.
Hesitantly, Jessica looked at the pump. She had to read the little display three times before she believed her eyes, but it now showed ‘Select Grade’. “I think it’s working!” Jessica called back.
“Good.” Lonnie yelled back. She watched him come out from behind the island, but rather than leave the store he instead disappeared towards the back. Jessica watched for a moment, but he didn’t reappear. She fumbled the pistol back into the unfamiliar holster, then lifted the pump’s nozzle and slapped at the big button marked ’87 Octane’. The light on it went green, and the little display read out ‘Begin Fueling’.
Suppressing a whoop, Jessica held the nozzle ready as she spun her gas cap off with her other hand. When she got it off and slid the nozzle into position, and fuel began gurgling into the tank, she felt tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you God.” she said feelingly as she held onto the nozzle and looked around the check her surroundings again.
The Accord’s tank was not large, and she was just finishing with the fill up when Lonnie reemerged from within the store. His arms were full, bags dangling from his left elbow while he carried what looked like three flats of bottled drinks before him. He grinned as he met her gaze. “I already loaded the truck up, but there’s room for more and every little bit might come in handy. You and your girl hungry, thirsty?”
Jessica hesitated as she watched him reach his truck and set the drink flats on the expansive hood. When he turned, he sifted through the plastic bags as he untangled them from his arm, then started toward her holding one out. It was lumpy and round, clearly holding more than just a couple of items. Jessica stepped back instinctively, flattening against the Accord, and found her hand had slapped back down on the grip of the pistol.
“Okay, okay.” Lonnie said, stopping at once. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He waited a moment, then gestured in the direction of the store. “I’m going to walk over there some and put this down, then go back to my truck. You can get it, don’t have to come near me at all, okay?”
“Fine.” Jessica said, not taking her hand from the pistol.
“Alright then.” Lonnie eased a dozen steps back in the direction of the store and set the bag down carefully, obviously taking care to ensure it didn’t spill open as he released it. Then he retreated. She looked around, again checking, no zombies, all good, then back at the truck when she heard one of its doors open.
Lonnie was out of sight behind the far side of the big vehicle, and she found herself gripping the pistol so hard her hand hurt. But after a moment he reappeared and started gathering the flats of drinks up in his arms. He gave her a non-committal smile when he saw she hadn’t moved.
Jessica considered for several more seconds, as he got the drinks off the truck’s hood, then she finally started moving sideways. She edged towards the bag slowly, keeping her attention in his direction, but he seemed focused on getting the looted flats into his vehicle.
When her foot bumped into the bag, she leaned down slowly and fumbled with her left hand until she got her fingers hooked through the handles. She paused, wary, as she saw Lonnie appear at the tailgate of his vehicle, moving toward the pump. She heard him unscrewing a gas cap, then the metal on metal sound of the nozzle as he rattled it out of its slot and got it into place.
Straightening with the bag, Jessica looked around, then checked its contents. She saw bottled water and canned soda, single serving bags of various types of nuts, a few wrapped pastries, and some mixed hard candy. When she looked up, she flinched violently when she saw Lonnie standing in view next to his gas pump, watching her.
He smiled reassuringly when he saw her reaction. “Easy, easy.” he said, leaving his hands hooked in his belt comfortably. “I just got a selection of stuff that should do you okay, unless you’re allergic to nuts or something. There’s plenty more inside, it ain’t hardly been picked clean at all ‘cept the milk. Folks done already grabbed all that.” He nodded towards the bag in her left hand. “That enough for you?”
Jessica shook herself and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not – thank you. There’s . . . just a lot going on right now.”
“Lord, ain’t that the truth.” Lonnie said, taking his hands off his belt then suddenly freezing when she flinched. “Easy now. I got a can of snuff in my pocket up here, just gonna get it out, okay?”
“Sorry.” Jessica said, though she watched him carefully and left her right hand resting on the grip of the pistol. A small corner of her mind was already noticing how natural that seemed, almost like her hand was supposed to be there if it wasn’t doing anything else.
Lonnie reached up to his left breast pocket and withdrew a small flat can with a green wrapper. She watched as he fitted it into his left hand comfortably, then smiled at her before snapping his wrist twice. His fingers thumped against the top of the can solidly, then he pulled the lid off and tucked it underneath the can before pinching some of the contents out and tucking them into his lower lip. He worked his mouth for a few moments, seeming to settle the snuff as he liked, then closed the can up and put it back into his pocket.
“You got somewhere you’re going?” he asked.
Jessica hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.” she lied. “What about you?”
“Oh, I got family west. Thought I’d head that way, s
ee how they’re doing even if they are Goddamned Auburn fans.” Lonnie said, shaking his head. He worked his lips for a moment, then spat on the concrete. “Auburn . . . well I guess now I might can find my way into forgiving them that, what with everything that’s going on and all.”
Jessica nodded again. “Probably for the best.”
“I guess.” he said with a shrug. “You sure you’re okay then? I got me some gas cans there in the back I’m gonna be filling up, and I know my way around the area pretty good. I don’t mind helping out some if you need it.”
“No.” Jessica said automatically. “Thank you, but – we’re fine. We’re fine now. Thank you for . . . everything.” she said. “You’re very kind.”
“Shit, ain’t nothing. Like anything else, just gotta know the trick.” Lonnie spat on the concrete again. “Well, you be careful. There’s a lot of bad shit out tonight.”
“I will.” Jessica said, starting to sidle sideways to the Accord. “You too.”
Lonnie nodded and turned back to his truck. Jessica kept sliding along for a few more steps, watching to see what he did, but he only walked unconcernedly away from her. She shifted into a more normal stride, though her head stayed turned in his direction, and hastened back to her car. Sliding in behind the steering wheel, she dropped the bag in Candice’s lap and picked the keys up from the center console where she’d left them.
When the engine started, she eyed the dashboard gauges briefly. The fuel indicator was zooming reassuringly towards ‘F’, so she shifted into drive. As she pulled away from the pumps she saw Lonnie raise a hand in a final wave, and she nodded unconsciously as she turned back onto Sugarloaf and headed for 316.
She flicked her high beams on as she curved around onto 316 West and let her speed settle around fifty. What she really wanted was a place to sit and think, but somehow she didn’t like the idea of doing that on 316. There were no lights, for starters. The dark was frightening right now.
“Mommy, was that a bad man?” Candice asked as Jessica reached for her phone, which was resting in its little cradle hooked up to the car charger.
“What?” Jessica’s thoughts, which were zooming through a mental list of things she might could do now that she wasn’t terrified of being stranded without gas, stalled as Candice spoke. Jessica gaped for a moment, then drew a deep breath and glanced over at Candice.
“You seemed scared of him.” Candice said, seeming sober beyond her years, as she met Jessica’s eyes. “Was he a bad man?”
Jessica considered for several seconds, took another breath, then sighed. “I don’t know honey.” she finally said.
“He helped us, didn’t he?” Candice asked, and Jessica heard plastic rustle as the girl sifted through the contents of the bag.
“He did.” Jessica said after a moment. “But I couldn’t know he was going to help. He might have not helped, or he might have been a bad man. I didn’t know, so I had to be careful.” She glanced over at Candice again. “Do you understand that?”
The girl pulled a can of soda out of the bag, and Jessica tensed. She had an insane vision of Lonnie somehow having done something to the things in the bag . . . but what could he do to a can of soda? It was metal and pressurized. She contented herself with listening for the hiss as Candice popped the tab on the can.
“I think so.” Candice said after she’d taken a drink. “It’s like the dog rule, isn’t it?”
Jessica was thrown for a loop again, and blinked several times before she decided she was lost. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Candice shrugged. “Daddy always said that when you’re near a dog that you don’t know, you have to be careful. He said you’re supposed to be nice and wait to see what the dog does before you decide what you’re going to do.”
Jessica smiled sadly. “Ah. Yes, it’s like the dog rule. Just like dogs, there are nice people and bad people and people who don’t care either way. You have to be careful, because you don’t always know what kind of person they are and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Yeah.” Candice said. “I’m glad he was a nice man.”
“So am I Candy Bear.” Jessica said softly, reaching to stroke her fingers through her daughter’s hair.
“So now what?”
Jessica sighed again. “Mommy’s still trying to think about that.” She stroked Candice’s hair again, then picked up her phone and used her thumb to unlock the screen. Normally she didn’t like to do anything else when she was driving, but she didn’t have any real plan and she needed to come up with one. She pulled up the list of recently dialed numbers and started working her way down it again. Everyone she’d already tried was either not answering or going straight to voicemail.
If she couldn’t connect with someone, she only had three real visions for a possible plan, and she didn’t really like any of them. The first was to go to Dalton, to her parents’ house. She had a key, and the big house sat on two acres of land that was bordered by trees. There weren’t any really close neighbors, but those in the area who were friendly with her parents would likely remember and know who she was.
The problems she could see with that plan started with Dalton itself, which was over a hundred miles away. Normally that was about two hours of drive time via Interstate, basically just zipping right up I-75. But with everything that was going on, and especially now that it was dark, she was wary of driving that far.
The roads might not be clear, and she didn’t like the thought of having to pick her way through on back roads. Running out of gas might be the least of her worries if she had to do that, but it was only one of the ways that solution could lead her and Candice straight into disaster.
The second option was to try to find a refugee center or camp or whatever. The Governor had said there were areas being setup around the region to take in evacuees. She figured she and Candice certainly qualified as evacuees. The problem was . . . she didn’t know where any were, not exactly. She was sure at least some of the locations had been mentioned on the news, but she couldn’t think of any.
Worse, some of the numbers she was trying included friends and former co-workers of Brett. Most of them were fire fighters like Brett had been, or were friends with other people with emergency response jobs. Just like everyone else she was trying, they weren’t picking up. What worried her most about that was that nine-one-one and the two firehouses she had direct dial numbers for in her contact list, the ones Brett had worked at before his death, were all going as unanswered as everything else she tried.
The third option, perversely, was the one she liked the least. Simply go home. It was familiar, she knew where it was, and there was food and shelter there. But she really didn’t want to do that. She didn’t know if she could bring herself to . . . do anything to her mother. Plus her father’s body was still upstairs, and if she returned there, that would have to be dealt with somehow. She couldn’t imagine how she’d be able to get it moved, and she didn’t know where she’d move it to anyway.
Ultimately, she didn’t feel safe there. The house was basically open for anyone, anything, who seriously wanted to get in, and the zombies seemed to always be serious. The big glass doors that opened out to the back yard, all the windows on the ground floor . . . she thought she’d rather do almost anything else than have to stay there.
Jessica put the phone to her ear as the first number started dialing. Ahead she saw the signs for I-85, and she could already see the lights that illuminated the interstate’s lanes during the night. She’d pull over somewhere on 85 and make her calls. Her prayers were now for someone to answer one of them.
* * * * *
Chapter Sixteen – Showtime
Peter
“Alright, last time, anyone unclear on how this is supposed to work?” Peter said loudly over the sound of idling engines.
Mendez shrugged. “Follow the car in front. Touch bumpers and push if it stops or gets stuck.” Heads were nodding along as he spoke, which was reassuring. More of them we
re looking nervous. It was a lot harder to ignore the zombies when they were standing only a few yards away, rather than dozens when you were also inside a safe building.
Now there were quite a few gathered up along the fence. Some were reaching through, straining as they tried to reach for the humans on the other side. Others just stood, staring hungrily. Peter wasn’t sure which kind were more disconcerting. They were all pretty unsettling.
“Right.” Peter nodded at Mendez. “Blade people, you want to take another few practice stabs?”
“Fuck, it ain’t that hard.” Candles said.
“We’re about to step back out into the thick of it.” Peter said mildly. “This is the time for people to get settled and ready.”
“We’re already in the thick of it.” Candles said.
“Dude, chill.” Hernandez said.
“Yeah, we’re going.” Whitley pointed out. “Dorne, you said the gates were all set?”
The guardsman nodded. “Totally. Pull the last couple of bolts and the gate moves without power. Slide and drive.”
“All front shotgun guys, you’re cover for Dorne when he opens the gate.” Peter reminded them.
“Some of us riding shotgun ain’t guys.” Whitley pointed out.
Peter grimaced. “It’s just an expression.”
“I know, it’s fine.” she shrugged.
Peter glanced around. “So, everyone okay? Let’s hit it.”
He turned and got into the Bronco. He’d siphoned some gas out of several of the vehicles they weren’t using to get the SUV’s tank up to about two-thirds, which should be enough one way or another. As he settled his AR on the seat next to him he heard car doors slamming shut as the others piled into their own waiting vehicles.
In addition to the Bronco, he’d hot-wired three other sedans of various makes, a pretty well maintained Jeep Cherokee that he was wondering why the owners hadn’t fled with, and a completely riced out Honda CRX. The street racer looked odd next to the other, more utilitarian vehicles, but Peter had actually been pretty happy to see it.
