by T. W. Brown
“Literally facing death, and you worry about a pint of Schnaps. Some folks might consider that to be an alcohol problem,” Kevin chuckled and took a sip.
“Yeah, well,” Mike accepted the bottle and took a much bigger drink, “those folks are most likely dead.”
“Harsh.”
A sudden cry caused both men to jump. Each had gone for his gun out of reflex, but both stopped short of drawing their weapon.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Erin,” Mike answered Kevin’s raised eyebrows. “All that obnoxious attitude she throws out when she’s awake is probably how she’s coping with being so damned scared.”
“Well, she is just a kid,” Kevin offered, his gaze focused on the squat concrete building.
“And knocked up.”
“That can’t help.”
The two drifted back to silence, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Eventually, Mike excused himself, wandered into the bathroom, returned, and climbed up into the back of the firetruck. Moments later, his snoring drifted on the night air.
Kevin walked around the rest area, scanning for any sign of movement. He heard Erin cry out a few more times. Once, he thought he heard quiet voices, most likely Angela, providing some comfort. So far, the four females basically kept to themselves. They ate apart, slept apart, and usually did not venture outside of the vehicles until the caravan stopped for the day.
That first evening they had been giddy and talkative, even Angela. But by the next day it seemed as if the rescue was long forgotten. The Bergman women—well, one girl and three women—closed ranks. What was worse, Angela seemed to believe she still held some form of authority. It wasn’t that she acted snobbish, it was simply that even though she did nothing to contribute to their overall situation, she would delegate tasks and insist that she have a say in the many on-the-fly choices that were made daily.
Yesterday, Mike finally lost his cool after a refuel stop. They spotted a Shell station all by itself just off the interstate. Just as they had on several previous occasions, Mike, Darrin, and Kevin arranged fueling order by radio. It would be Darrin’s firetruck, then the U-Haul.
Kevin could hear arguing in the backgound as he and Mike sorted the details. It was Darrin and Angela. She, Erin, and Shari opted to ride in the firetruck. That left him driving in awkward silence with Ruth. Finally, Mike came back on the radio, “Tell Ruth to be ready to meet up with her mom and sisters.”
“We won’t be sparing any of the three of us!” Darrin’s voice yelled in the background.
Kevin glanced over at Ruth who returned his look with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. He knew she had been some sort of lawyer prior to all this. He briefly wondered how many people on the witness stand withered under that look and babbled. Well, he wasn’t about to say a single word. He turned his gaze back to the road and focused an inordinate amount of attention on the upcoming off-ramp. He could feel Ruth’s brown eyes boring into the side of his head and considered asking her what the hell she wanted, but knew that would be playing right into her hand.
“If I’m getting out, I’ll need a weapon.” Her voice wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, all of the Bergman’s had very pleasant voices, with almost an underlying purr.
“Take the machete under the seat,” Kevin said.
“And what would you expect me to do with that?” Ruth asked.
“The instructions are fairly simple,” Kevin smirked. “Grip the handle and swing the cutting end at the head of any zombie that gets close.”
“I’d prefer a gun.”
“I’m sure you would,” Kevin said, trying not to sound exasperated. “But the first gunshot will be a dinner-bell to every zombie within miles. We face less liklihood of being over-whelmed if we make as little noise as possible.”
“Okay.”
Kevin couldn’t help but cast a glance Ruth’s direction. Surely she was setting him up for a bigger argument. She was holding the blade in her left hand—hmmm, southpaw—and turning it side to side, hefting it to get an idea of its weight.
“Remember, when that blade cleaves into a skull, this ain’t the movies. The blade will often times get a bit stuck.” Kevin let off the gas as they reached the off-ramp.
“If I chop off the head, will that work?” Ruth asked.
“Only in that the body will fall.” His estimation of her raised just a bit.
“Like a rattlesnake then,” Ruth stated matter-of-factly.
“Huh?” Now Kevin was perplexed.
“You can cut the head off a rattlesnake, but it will still bite you for a while out of reflex.”
“Yeah,” Kevin had been very impressed in that moment by Ruth, “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
They pulled into the truckstop and quickly found the cap for the gasoline storage tanks. Nobody was really talking much, and there was a lot of tension above the norm—mostly between Darrin and Angela. Still, the Bergmans clustered together and held some sort of meeting. Then, as a group, they made for the main building which was obviously some sort of store. At least it had been. It also contained a diner. That was probably the source of the fire that had brought down half the place.
While Darrin methodically dispatched the few roaming zombies drawn by the group’s arrival, Mike and Kevin filled the vehicles as well as a fifty-gallon drum that they discovered the day before. Once it was topped off, Kevin called for the Bergman women to load up.
“We’re drawing a lot of attention!” Darrin called as he began backing towards the big red firetruck.
“Ladies!” Mike bellowed. “We really gotta go now!”
There was no response or movement from the charred remnants of the building. Kevin drew the longsword from its shoulder harness and began jogging to where he had seen the gals duck inside. Along the way he simply steered wide of the slow moving undead that chose him as a hopeful meal-du-jour. He’d have to fight his way back, and would save his energy for that possibility.
Just before he stepped up on the curb that ran along the length of the place, the Bergmans—led by Angela—came strolling out of the tinted glass door like they were on a Sunday outing. To her credit, it was Ruth who took immediate stock of the situation. She urged the others to make for the vehicles.
By some amazing stroke of luck, everybody made it back—the women with arms full of grocery bags—and they were quickly back on the road. There was a considerable amount of arguing in the firetruck. Darrin and Angela were almost nose-to-nose like a big league manager and an umpire jawing over who was indeed the biggest idiot. In the U-Haul, Ruth was only mimimally apologetic.
“I understand things were a bit uncoordinated back there,” she spoke in level tones, but it was curt enough to have Kevin on edge. “We needed some supplies that you boys failed to load up on. Granted, we lacked the haste we should’ve had in the situation.”
“We have food, water, weapons,” Kevin ticked the items off on his fingers, “I fail to see where we’ve been negligent in our preparation. We have basic first aid stuff, blankets, even some luxuries like books and music.”
“And just what exactly do you have by way of feminine necessities?” Ruth asked.
“Feminine necessities,” Kevin nodded. Of course! It hadn’t occurred to him—or the others most likely—that there were certain hygiene requirements that Ruth, Angela, Shari, and Erin would require. He could see in the large bag she had placed at her feet between her knees every single item that made guys squirm at the checkout stand of the grocery store with their wife or girlfriend…or mother.
“Good thing more women weren’t on the roads.” Ruth pulled out a box of tampons and waved them at Kevin.
“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Kevin exclaimed, clearly uncom-fortable.
“Price check on register-six for Playtex Pearl Tampons,” Ruth affected a nasally voice and shouted out her rolled down window.
They shared some laughs and were still having an okay time of it, all things considered, when the rest area came into v
iew and Mike announced that they would make camp. That was when Kevin realized he hadn’t seen any walking dead for a bit.
They pulled into the abandoned facility, the arguments coming from the firetruck making both he and Ruth glance at the other with raised eyebrows.
“You pull another stunt like that and I will leave you and your daughters, pregnant or not, to fend for yourselves! And I think we all remember how successful you were last time.” Mike climbed down from the firetruck and walked straight towards the only zombie present—a rather hideous looking biker missing its left arm. Fortunately there was no motorcycle helmet to complicate things. He swung his spiked baseball bat and put it down. By then, Darrin was at Mike’s side and the two stomped into the open restrooms. Not much more was said by anyone the rest of the evening. Ruth joined her mom and sisters, and that had been it. Kevin spent his silent evening contemplating the box of condoms he’d seen in the bag of “feminine necessities.”
A brilliant flash to the west yanked Kevin’s mind back to the present. On the horizon, a dull orange glow shone like the trailing seconds just after sunset. It was focused in an area that, if he extended his arm and made a fist, was just over a handswidth wide. Something substantial had just blown up.
Whatever it was would be far enough away not to be a concern. Still, it would likely alter their plans. It had to be Columbus. A fire that size would not only draw zombies for miles, it would also mobilize any in the area. In short, it would be chaos.
He walked over to the U-Haul and pulled out his trusty AAA Road Atlas. If they swung north, they could take some state-route roads up and around. There would be an extra day’s travel through the boondocks where fuel might be sketchy, but they could come down the other side of the Hoover Reservoir and resume their trek via the interstate with what would hopefully be little complication.
With the rising sun came the eventual stirrings. By then, a large black smudge of smoke could be seen rising high into the sky. Nobody seemed to have any arguments about his proposed route change, not even Darrin who seemed to make it a point to find fault with anything he’d offered up in the way of suggestions since Wheeling.
There was still a lot of tension in the air. That, Kevin thought, is why nobody is arguing with me. After a breakfast of canned fruit and dry cereal, washed down with the previous night’s boiled water, it was time to go. Kevin climbed into the cab of his truck to discover both Ruth and Shari waiting.
“I can’t take another day of the constant arguing,” Shari said as she folded her arms across her chest, daring Kevin to protest in any way.
“Okay.” He turned over the engine and, after a glance back to ensure everybody was ready to roll, headed out onto the highway.
***
“There’s one of those phony-ass campgrounds just ahead.” Kevin pointed to the gaudy orange and brown sign at the top of the small ridge bordering the right hand side of the road.
“I don’t think anybody feels much like camping,” Shari muttered. She was sick of being ignored. All morning Kevin and Ruth carried on talking to each other like she wasn’t even there. She wasn’t used to being left out, and especially by boys.
“We won’t be staying,” Kevin laughed. “But, if my guess is correct…” his voice trailed off as he glanced across to Ruth who was nibbling on her lower lip and nodding. He noticed she did that nibbling thing whenever she was thinking seriously. He found it kinda sexy.
“RVs.” Ruth rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
“Yep,” Kevin agreed. “We could travel much more comfortably.”
“And not have to sleep outside?” Shari’s eyes closed with a look of ecstacy.
“Next town we reach, Newark I think, we could maybe dredge up some stuff to toughen the rigs up a bit,” Kevin said.
“Like in Stripes?” Shari asked, determined to stay in the conversation. As soon as she said it, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She certainly wasn’t doing anything to lessen the idea that she was little more than eye-candy with a pretty singing voice. She focused her gaze straight ahead and waited for the laughter.
“Well…” Kevin paused and Shari waited with dread for the condescending comment she knew was coming. “We probably won’t have the cool flame-thrower or the computers. But, basically,” Kevin flashed a sincere smile and nodded, “yeah.”
Ruth patted her sister’s shoulder. Shari glanced over and saw an approving smile. She faced forward again, feeling a warmth on her cheeks. She was actually blushing.
“Ruth, get on the radio and let ‘em know what we’re thinking,” Kevin said in a clipped tone that made it clear this was not going to be a topic open for debate.
Ten minutes later, a U-Haul and a firetruck pulled up to the gatehouse of Rory’s D-LUX Kampgrounds and RV Park.
The good news was that there didn’t appear to be too many of those things wandering about. The bad news was that there were, at best, only a few useable rigs to choose from.
“One for everybody?” Shari glanced back and forth between her sister and Kevin. “Everybody but Erin that is, and she can’t drive anyways.”
“We should probably stick to three at the most,” Kevin said, watching an old man who’d probably had trouble walking before becoming a zombie struggle to get around the lowered arm of the entry-gate.
“Why?” Shari struggled to keep the whine out of her voice.
“Those things eat up a lot of gas,” Kevin answered.
“It’s not like we have to worry about a fuel shortage or how expensive gas is,” Shari argued.
“No, but we do have to worry about them.” He gestured to the handful of undead stumbling their direction. “Every time we stop to fill up, we risk getting nipped.”
Ruth noticed Shari seem to sink down in her seat. She knew that her sister had been frustrated all morning. Quite frankly, she had taken a little satisfaction in the fact that this guy was obviously not starstruck, and seemed more interested in having intelligent conversation than in oogling her more famous sibling. Still, she’d seen a change in Shari since their rescue a few days back. She seemed to actually relax and find relief in not being “Teen-Queen, Shari Bergman” anymore.
“Hang on.” Kevin instinctively put an arm across the front of Ruth and Shari. Stomping on the gas pedal, he launched the U-Haul forward. The reflective-striped arm of the entry-gate exploded into splinters and the old man went flying uncere-moniously through the air.
Kevin pulled into the open grass of a now hard to make out baseball field. Darrin pulled up alongside, and everybody poured out of the two vehicles. Angela and Erin were the only ones not brandishing a weapon.
Ruth looked tentatively at a rather large man wearing the remnants of a softball jersey—Sam’s Softserve Softballers—as he stumbled towards her, arms outstretched and mouth open. She held a spiked baseball bat cocked back like she was at the plate.
“Swing down onto the top of its head,” Kevin called as he moved towards an elderly couple. “Pretend it’s a game. Don’t think of it as human. And don’t be scared. This is just a big three-dee video game.”
“I hated video games,” Ruth said through clenched teeth.
He was only a few steps from her, and paused with his longsword just for a moment. He wanted to see how she handled her first target. Ruth raised her weapon above her head and brought it down hard. Softball Player seemed to look up at the last second. The steel spikes drove through face and forehead without prejudice. It dropped to its knees and then collapsed face first…snatching the bat from Ruth’s hands.
Old Man and Old Woman reached out, hands pawing at Kevin’s arm. He shoved them backwards, watching Ruth shake her left hand in obvious pain. Two more zombies were closing from Ruth’s side, one in black, blood-crusted coveralls, missing his right and left arm from just above the elbows. The other was a young girl in pigtails. Her chest cavity had been torn open, ribs jutted out obscenely—advertising what had to have been a particularly gruesome death.
Old Ma
n was reaching for his sleeve. Kevin drove the tip of his blade up through the underside of its jaw until he felt a momentary resistance which would be the top of the inside of its skull. A quick pull, and the blade came free. One more backhand motion removed the top third of Old Woman’s head.
Ruth cried out, Kevin spun fearing he’d not dispatched his two quick enough. He needn’t have worried. Ruth was already pulling a long-bladed buck knife free from where it had driven into the top of Pigtail’s head. Coveralls was already down, head cleaved at an angle from the left ear and out the right side of its mouth, Shari standing over the corpse with a mix of pride and awe etched on her face. Both of her hands clutched the machete with a white-knuckled fierceness.
“Hand still stings from having the bat wrenched from it,” Ruth said, wincing a bit and shaking the hand again as she walked over to stand next to Kevin.
“Forgot to mention to pull back after delivering the blow,” Kevin apologized.
“Thanks,” Ruth said flatly. “C’mon, sis.”
Side-by-side the trio moved in to confront the rest of the undead inhabitants of the RV Park. Darrin and Mike were likewise engaged. Meanwhile, Angela and Erin seemed to simply drift in the wake of the deaths. Occassionally, they would yell and point.
Twenty minutes later, the park was clear of any free-roaming undead. It took the better part of the next hour checking and clearing the vehicles. By nightfall, the RVs were parked in a large pentagon, bumper to bumper.
As dinner was finished, Darrin stood up and stretched. “Tomorrow, we utilize all the cleaning supplies we can find and scrub out the three we decide to take. We fill the gas tanks and inventory what we have in reserve. Then, we reinforce those babies. Mike and I will take the firetruck up the road. I think the sign said Newark was twelve miles away. We’ll find a home repair or hardware store that will hopefully still be intact. I want to move quick so it will just be Mike and I, but we’ll stay in touch on the radio except when we actually hit the store. Everybody needs to do their part.”
