by David Rogers
“But zombies don’t shoot back.” she told herself. “Zombies don’t run, or take cover, or think, or know what they’re doing in a fight.” She’d killed once already, and didn’t want to again. She really, really, really didn’t want to. Zombies . . . that wasn’t killing. They were already dead. People weren’t.
But she knew if it was a choice of death or killing, she’d choose the latter. If it was a choice between Candice and herself being put through . . .
Shaking herself, Jessica focused on taking slow, deep breaths. Hyperventilating was not going to help. Constantly turning over bad things in her head was not helping. Focus on the now, focus on surviving. She couldn’t see the road through the bushes on the right, but that was more comforting than frustrating. If she couldn’t see the road, then hopefully anyone on the road couldn’t see her either.
Minutes turned into ten, then a quarter hour. Jessica kept catching herself fingering the Taurus’ safety, which she knew was a bad habit. Not as bad as playing with the trigger if she wasn’t ready to fire, but still dangerous. She finally put the gun back on the seat next to her and made herself put her hands on the lower curve of the steering wheel to stop herself from fiddling with the weapon. The SUV was armored; and if something happened so quickly that she didn’t have time to pick up the pistol, it probably wouldn’t matter anyway.
When she saw movement behind the SUV, it made her heart jump toward her throat. Jessica stopped herself from grabbing for the pistol when she saw it was Austin returning. Tearing her gaze away from the rear view mirror, she looked over her shoulder at him. He was carrying the MP5 in one hand, and was walking normally. His head was swiveling steadily around as he kept an eye on his surroundings, but nothing about his body language signaled that he was alarmed or concerned about anything.
Waiting until he was nearly to the SUV, Jessica pressed the button to pop the locks.
“What’s that?” Candice asked.
“Austin’s back. I’m opening the doors for him.” Jessica said.
“Can I get up?”
“Yes, get back in the seat and put your belt back on.”
Austin squeezed through the bushes and forced the door back against them so he could get in. He closed the door behind him and laid the MP5 in his lap with the barrel pointing at it. “They went by a few minutes ago, east, toward Knoxville.” he said in response to her raised eyebrows and demanding expression. “They didn’t stop, and they didn’t see me.”
“We can leave?”
“If we go west, yes.”
Jessica twisted the ignition key and brought the engine back to life. “Okay, hang on while I get out of this mess.”
It took her four times longer to back out than it had to pull in; both because she was driving backwards as well as because she was forcing herself to go slower now that the danger was past. Finally – after smacking the rear bumper into two different trees, and adding fresh scrapes to the paint on both sides – she made it back to the pavement. She immediately headed west, toward the gas station, and away from Knoxville.
“What’s your plan?” Austin asked calmly as the SUV’s speed built past where she normally kept it. The engine wasn’t roaring at full power, but it was obvious the SUV wasn’t going to be cruising at a simple forty or fifty the way it was sounding.
“Check the map for me.” Jessica said, concentrating on the road ahead. She was gripping the steering wheel tightly to still the quivering in her hands. Everything inside her felt jittery, cut clean through with a high thread of steady alarm. Taking a deep breath, she went on. “Find a route south so we don’t waste time spinning around through loop roads that come back to this one.”
Austin produced his well folded Georgia state road map and opened it to the middle of the state. Jessica finally realized what she was doing to the accelerator and eased off, holding her speed to seventy. There was a limit, even for her panic, even though she felt like flooring it as they whipped past the gas station. The two lanes of pavement were clear, without a car, zombie, animal, or person in sight. She kept checking the rear view mirror, but nothing was behind them either.
“Okay.” he said as he studied the map. “If the next road is Maxwell, then take that. It’ll hit Route 208, where I’d recommend we backtrack a little east before following it southwest for a few miles. Then we’ll be able to get to Route 90, and from there I think we can just barely pick our way south if we keep tacking back and forth to stay out of any towns.”
“Got it. Keep me on the right path.”
“Who were we hiding from?” Candice asked.
“Is your seat belt on?” Jessica asked, realizing she didn’t remember if she’d heard it click.
“Yes.”
“Bad people, Candy Bear.” Jessica answered. “The ones from Knoxville.”
“They didn’t see us Austin?”
“Nope, we’re in the clear for now girlie-girl.”
“Good.” Candice said.
“Yes, good.” Jessica echoed, trying to get a grip on something other than the steering wheel. She wasn’t completely lost to panic – that had happened a number of times since the zombies had first appeared – but she was far from calm. No matter how unsettled and tense she felt right now, she knew that was just nerves and emotion. She was short of full panic. Experience with that had given her enough to recognize she was still in control of herself.
“Keep telling yourself that girl.” she thought as she stared through the windshield.
The encounter had been too close for her state of mind. She had been reckless. They should have left the area entirely, weeks ago. She’d let the rural quiet, with all the isolated roads and deserted houses, lull her into thinking the Knoxville episode was behind them. That, and the need to give Austin time to rest, to heal. Moving around too much would have hurt him. And then, after he’d gotten a couple of weeks of rest in, she’d let herself be lulled by how routine shifting around without incident was becoming.
It was inexcusable. Completely. Utterly without excuse. Staying had nearly gotten them . . .
“Are you okay?” Jessica asked, glancing briefly at Austin, trying to wrench her thoughts out of the loop of recrimination and terrified anger.
“Me? I’m fine.”
“Your side’s not bothering you?”
“Hurts, but that’s nothing new, and nothing I can’t handle.” he shrugged. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Relax. We’re fine.”
“I’ll relax when we get far from here.” she said levelly, though it took effort to keep her voice from quavering as she thought of what could have happened if the team of scavengers had spotted them. The SUV was very noticeable, to anyone who knew what it was. Somehow, she didn’t think anyone who recognized it, certainly not anyone from the Knoxville Eagle facility, would be in a forgiving live-and-let-live mood.
Not after she and Austin had left the group’s leader laying dead on the street and fled into the night. That the asshole deserved it likely wouldn’t matter to his friends or subordinates or however they thought of themselves. Baser emotions would be guiding their reactions if they spotted the trio that had done the deed.
“Try.” he said softly. “We’re fine. As soon as we get to the first turn, I’ll know exactly where we are, and from then on I can keep us on course.” Austin craned his head over to look at the dashboard gauges. “We’ve still got two-thirds of a tank. We’ll put some distance between here and us, then find a station and pull some gas out of the tanks so we can fill up.”
“Right.” she nodded, trying to listen, to believe, him. She still felt like panic would be a good option; even though she knew calm decisions were the right choice.
But it had been way too close a thing. If they’d driven up to that gas station . . .
“There, see, that’s Maxwell. Turn left.”
Jessica slowed as the crossing with its dark signal rushed up. She made the turn, heading south.
* * * * *
“Zombie.” Candice announced.
“Got it.” Austin said as Jessica straightened, still holding the rope that went down into the gas station’s underground tank. She looked around quickly. The rural gas station was the smallest one she’d yet seen; literally two pumps, one each for 87 octane regular gas and diesel. But it was quiet, and deserted.
Except for the occasional zombie, apparently.
But this was only the second one since they’d stopped. As Jessica turned her head, looking for the problem, Austin fired past her in the direction of the gas station’s store. He was sitting atop the roof of the SUV, where he had a good view of the area, and a clear field of fire in every direction. Helping him climb up there took some effort, but once he was in place, he could see everything without having to move further.
She heard him cut off a curse. Completing the turn of her head, Jessica saw a small zombie next to the building. It looked like it had been in its teens before it converted, maybe fifteen or so. As she took in the tattered jeans and bare scraps of a t-shirt that still doggedly clung to its upper body, Austin fired again. This shot took the zombie in the face, sending it to the ground.
“Sorry.” he said, clearly embarrassed at having missed. “It staggered at just the wrong time.”
“It’s okay.” Jessica shrugged as she resumed hauling on the rope, pulling it up hand over hand. He was tired. Riding around in a car didn’t seem all that taxing, until you did it while hurt. And while helping pay attention to the surroundings for both zombies and monitoring a map. Then it was clearly enough to take a chunk out of even someone as fit as Austin.
But despite his burning his candle hard on both ends, she still trusted him. He’d let her know if he couldn’t hold his share up.
The metal can at the end of the rope emerged from the opening to the storage tank, and she grasped it by the thick doubled-wire handle. Carefully she poured it into the waiting gas can next to her, adding another gallon to their reserves as the liquid gurgled down the funnel she’d rigged up from cardboard, foil, and duct tape. As she fed the can – an old paint can that had been scraped and scrubbed clean – back down into the tank, she glanced around again.
They were nearly a hundred miles from Knoxville, somewhere north of Albany. Bypassing any sort of actual town or village or whatever made the going slower than she’d expected, but there had been no problems. Tracking back and forth, sometimes having to go south two miles before north-east three just to then be able to go south some more was a little frustrating; but she was willing to pay that price. So long as it kept them away from any heavy concentrations of . . . anything. At this point she was fearful of people as much as zombies.
She knew it was an unrealistic attitude; the world wasn’t full of rampaging marauders. Not full. But she was only just now starting to breathe easier. Maybe once they cleared Georgia she’d be able to finish compartmentalizing Knoxville and its bad memories. Maybe then she’d be able to put it behind her. But she’d had proof of what some people were capable of doing when there wasn’t any rule of law to rein them in.
“It only takes one mistake.” she thought tiredly.
“You okay?” Austin asked.
Jessica realized she’d been day dreaming a little, and shook herself. “Fine. Just . . . I’m fine.” She started hauling the paint can back up, once more full of gas.
“I could spell you some you know.” he offered.
“No, I need you healthy.”
“I’m okay.”
“This isn’t as easy as it looks.” she said as she pulled the rope up, bringing the can with it.
“I know, that’s why I’m offering.”
“Right, which is why I’m telling you to sit your . . . butt up there and play watchman. Where are we going to be if you pull something open and start bleeding internally?”
“Okay Mom.” he said.
Jessica paused with the can finally in hand once more to give him a narrow look of wry amusement. “You love that don’t you?”
“I’m just keeping watch.” he said innocently.
“Right. Candice, you’re doing a great job helping him.”
“Four eyes are better than two.” the girl said from the hood of the SUV. She could easily scramble down and duck into the SUV, or up on the roof with Austin, if something really dangerous developed; and her presence reduced the amount of twisting and turning Austin had to do for a complete watch on their surroundings to be maintained.
“That’s right.”
Jessica emptied the can into the gas container, then lowered it for another measure. Twenty-two gallons for the SUV, then nine out of thirteen so far to refill the gas cans they had on hand. One gallon per ‘trip’ with the paint can, more or less; which was thirty-one trips so far. Thirty-one times hauling up roughly six pounds per trip. Austin had helpfully informed her gas weighed less than water.
She’d already hauled more gas than her body weight, and still had another four gallons to go before the cans were full. Her arms and back were aching, and her knees were bruised from kneeling on the concrete for so long – even with the pair of folded towels she’d positioned as cushions – but she kept at it. It wouldn’t get done if she didn’t do it. Candice might be able to haul a few cans up, but Jessica would be surprised if the ten-year-old had the endurance to keep at it for very long.
And Jessica was quite serious about Austin pulling something. That she was sweating so hard was proof this was rough work. He was tough and determined, but willpower didn’t keep flesh from tearing when you abused it. The sooner he was returned to full health, the better for all three of them. She’d be happy to let him go back to being big tough he-man when he was healthy; until then, he could sit back and feel guilty over letting her do all the hard stuff.
Well, a lot of it anyway.
The good news was the gas station seemed to have taken a fuel delivery just before the problems had started; the gas level in the underground tank wasn’t that far below the ground. The other gas station they’d been previously using had been much lower, which meant further to haul each gallon up.
And she’d gotten a crash course in how to tell diesel apart from gas. Smell; gas was sharper, and more familiar after twenty years of filling her cars up. Color; diesel was darker. And if all else failed either spill some of each and see which evaporated first – which would be the gas – or set both spills on fire if she was in a hurry but had to be sure. Austin said the gas would burn off much quicker than the diesel.
She was reasonably confident she’d picked the right tank after investigating both, so they hadn’t set anything on fire, but it was useful information. Jessica had learned all sorts of things in the past seven weeks; some of which had just never come up, and others that she would have never guessed in a million years she’d need to become adept at.
Guns were big on that list, along with cleaning and caring for bullet wounds, storing and purifying water, cooking and managing food without electricity or refrigerators, and now telling fuels apart without labels. What was the world coming to?
“Stupid question. Zombies.” she told herself as she poured the last can into the remaining two gallon container, topping it off. Sitting back on her haunches, she rested a few moments, then checked all the cans. She hadn’t missed one; they were all full. Finally. That had only taken half an hour.
Screwing the caps on the containers, she heaved herself to her feet and started carrying them over to the SUV; the little ones first. The five gallon can made her groan some, but she got them all lined up against the sides of the cargo compartment’s interior and began securing them in place with bungee cords so they didn’t slide around or tip. She finished by stuffing the rope, funnel, and paint can into the garbage bag she kept them in to contain the fumes and keep gas from soaking into the back of the SUV. It went in the back with everything else, and she stepped back gratefully.
“Okay, now I am coming down.” Austin said when she closed the SUV’s back hatch. “You’re not go
ing back into the store alone.”
“Fine.” Jessica nodded, too tired to argue. And, truth be told, she wouldn’t mind the backup. They’d already checked it once, just to make sure there weren’t any lurking zombies or people camping out inside – and also looking for gas cans – but had then left it alone in favor of fueling up before anything else. Gas meant they could flee if worst came to worst. Food wouldn’t make the SUV run; and gas would let them find food.
Now they were full up on fuel, but there had been quite a bit still on the shelves inside. The station wasn’t a big convenience store like she was used to from Atlanta, or as were commonly seen along the Interstates, but it still had a few aisles of shelves of the typical sorts of snacks and such.
Up to a point, calories were calories. They had room, and weight capacity, in the SUV to spare. Even allowing for what she was reserving in hopes of finding more fuel cans. Potato chips and candy weren’t healthy, but she’d rather bring them than not.
“Candice, in the car, lock it behind you.” Jessica said as Austin started easing himself down. Her daughter scrambled down without complaint and got in the back seat of the vehicle as Austin came down across the hood, then to the ground, moving gingerly. Jessica listened for the click of the SUV’s locks, then drew the Taurus and headed for the store.
The building was small. Even without power, it was well lit with sun scattering in through the windows. With Austin trailing and covering her, she re-cleared the whole building once more, then snapped open a pair of garbage bags and doubled them up together.
This being backwoods Georgia, and a gas station, there was plenty of jerky, in a variety of flavors and types. All of it went into the bag, followed by all the snack crackers and pretzels she could find, then hard candy and bagged soft candies that hadn’t deteriorated in nearly two months of no air conditioning. The days might be cool, and the nights cold, now; but before that un-air-conditioned interior temperatures had been in the 80s and 90s on some days. There was no way the chocolate bars had survived those conditions, not without disintegrating into melted messes, so she left them alone.
