Zombies and Chainsaws (Book 2): Dark Roads

by Evans, Mike

  “Patrick, if I were you, honey, I’d shush it, and I’d do it now.”

  As they left, Patrick grabbed the lighters, knowing she’d forgotten them, and the two took the new stash back up to the roof, where they would move on to her next part of the plan. When they got everything up there, she tossed the tent and cooler as close to the driver’s side of her Thunderbird as she could. With the bullets and guns in the duffle, the last thing she wanted to do was throw those down.

  Patrick held out the lighter for her, and she said, “When those things run off to chase down that sound, you and I need to get down your little plant ladder, and we need to do so quickly!”

  Patrick gave her a thumbs up, sitting with his feet dangling over the edge. Just then, Michelle came back out, screaming, “Can we come with you? Seems like the longer we wait, the more of them there are going to be.”

  Maria said, “If you can get to the car, you can come with us. You go pack up your kitchen real quick, and I’ll wait a minute or two.”

  Michelle disappeared, and she could be heard screaming at her husband, Billie, to go pack up all the food. A few minutes later, a thumbs up was given and Maria could see Billie’s outline at the entryway to their home, ready to go.

  Patrick held out the biggest rocket first, with a smile that could not have been more genuine on his round face. She said, “You think we ought to start with the biggest one first, or should we work our way up? They might not move so quick if we start off with the big stuff first. What do you think, Patrick?”

  Patrick looked at the bag of fireworks he was holding and took back the one he had originally handed her, exchanging it for a box of whistlers. Within a few minutes, she had lit off enough for a small-scale firework show, and the dead followed the sound. Patrick was practically jumping up and down by the time they got to the end of the bag. “It's time, it's time. Light the big one, Aunt Maria, light the big one, please!”

  Even in the moments like this, right before they were going to put their lives on the line, she couldn’t help but smile, watching Patrick and his eyes light up. She knelt down next to him, holding the tube, and lit it. It went three blocks into the next neighborhood. She quickly realized what she had done, and prayed that the horde wouldn't kill one of her friends or a innocent person just waiting for help once they headed that way. She knew there were few options and didn’t think she would be judged too harshly.

  The two got the bag and shotgun, and she scooted over the edge and let Patrick head down first. His small frame navigated the trellis like a pro. When he got to the ground, he waved frantically for her to come. Maria had misjudged the weight the trellis could handle, and with the bag full to the brim and her own weight, it snapped within the first two steps. She fell, watching like it was a bad dream, staring into the blue sky as she headed toward the ground. She hit hard, coughing as the wind was knocked out of her. From out of sight in the backyard, one of the dead came toward her. Maria looked to the side and saw a pair of men's boots shuffling her way; squinting up into the sun over its shoulder, she saw it wasn't a man, but one of the dead. Still trying to get her bearings back, she reached for the shotgun, then stopped. She had just sent ninety nine percent of the dead in another direction with the fireworks, and firing a shotgun now would only bring them back.

  Patrick, by her side, yelled, “Get up, Aunt Maria, get up now! We gotta go.”

  She nodded, rolling to her side and picking up the shotgun. When the dead was within a foot of her, she pulled the machete and brought it in sideways toward its face, slashing through its eyes. When she brought it back out, it had two eyes stuck to it. The dead moved its head around, confused, arms stretched out, trying to feel for her. She kept her distance and, when it was past her, brought the machete across the back of its ankles, cutting through its Achilles tendons. It fell to the ground instantly.

  Patrick said, “Whoa, Aunt Maria, you’re like a ninja.”

  She smiled awkwardly and said, “Close your eyes, honey.” When he partially did, she took the hatchet and brought it down three times into the dead's skull. The back of its head busted open and brains tumbled slowly out. She took a very deep breath, hoping she wasn’t going to puke. When she was fifty percent sure of her stomach, she ran back, gripping the heavy duffle and checking the opposite side of the fence. It was as good now as it ever would be. She swung the fence open, ushering Patrick through, and the two ran to the Thunderbird. She got Patrick secured and threw the tent and cooler in the trunk. She chose to keep the bag up front with them, knowing that, if she needed more shotgun shells, it’d be best if they had them handy.

  Patrick looked around, wild-eyed, keeping a lookout while Maria got everything situated. She jumped into the car, turning the key in the ignition. It screeched like usual, echoing through the neighborhood before finally turning over, and the giant V8 came to life. Maria put it in gear, not worried about traffic, and floored it back out of the driveway. She looked to the neighbors—Michelle and Billie both had laundry baskets full of canned goods and groceries. When they got close enough, she hopped out, pushing the seat so they could get in the back. The two both yelled thank you as they tossed in their supplies and bags, and the four were off down the road.

  Michelle said, “Thank you for taking us with you. We really appreciate it. Billie’s truck wasn’t running, or we’d have left a long-ass time ago. I’ve been telling him to fix it for two weeks now, and did he listen? No, of course not.”

  “Look," Billie said. "It isn’t my fault it ain’t fixed yet— there’s this little thing called money that mechanics like to get. Until I get paid on Friday, I don't have anything but my good looks and you to barter with—of course, that paycheck might not do to much good anymore.”

  Maria cut in, “You're both welcome. I’m glad you're okay. I wonder if a lot of people are still in town, or if they left after they saw the first of the dead?”

  Michelle said, “Are we really better off leaving town? I mean, do you think we'll be safer on the road?”

  “I’m not staying on the road, you two. All I'm doing is driving out to the country. I have a tent, and I have food and a cooler and some pots. We ought to have plenty, between the four of us, to be able to make a go of it out here for a few days. My brother-in-law, Jude, is going to be here before you know it.”

  “Can you tell me why he was on the news down in Missouri chopping these things' heads off with a chainsaw?”

  “I can’t say I have a good enough grasp on that to answer. All we know is he had a contract job down in Missouri; that’s where he’s been all week. The next thing I know, he calls and tells me that the dead are up. After the first rain, I saw people walking around who’d been laid to rest, and then I completely believed him. We were going to stay in the basement, but one saw me when I was trying to get supplies, and from there an entire horde broke through the windows to get into the house. There wasn’t much reason to stay there once that all happened. The basement windows aren't big enough for me to squeeze out of, and I can’t say letting Patrick go alone in the middle of all this on his own sounded like a great idea, either.”

  Billie said, “How you doing up there, buddy? You doing okay?”

  Patrick turned around in his seat and said, “There’s dead people walking all around, we're going camping, and we had a firework show—this is great!”

  The two neighbors both nodded, unsure how someone could be so excited about this. Michelle said, “So we're just going to go out in the middle of nowhere and wait for Jude to find us?”

  Maria said, “Yep, pretty much. I know the back roads Jude drives, and if we just set up on the side of the hill, this big-ass red tent he has is going to be more than enough to let him know we made it. Besides, with all the shit in the garage, he knows I can’t park in there, so if the car isn’t in the drive, it means we left, and that we were alive when we left.”

  “You got any idea how long it will be before he gets here? Billie here isn’t too resourceful in the ways of vi
olence.”

  “Hey," Billie said, "I just don’t believe in violence—I'm above it.”

  “Well, Billie, you might want to readjust your way of thinking, because if one of them there things grabs onto you, they're going to rip a big ol' chunk out of you, and if you don’t get eaten completely, then you're going to come back as one of them. How does that sit with you?” Maria asked.

  Billie said, “You got anything I can use?”

  “No, I have a couple twenty-twos, but if you don’t know how to shoot, then you aren’t going to be learning with Jude’s ammo. The shotgun is almost empty. Like Jude said on that news program, you need to smash their heads open or cut them off.”

  “Oh, Aunt Maria, that is really disgusting.”

  “Yes, it is Patrick, but you know what? We need to help all these dead people go back to Heaven, where they belong.”

  Patrick scratched his head while thinking about this. “So we send them back to Heaven by chopping their heads off and smashing them open?”

  Maria sighed, thinking of how to answer. “Well, when you get older, you’ll understand. Now just sit there and play with your cars, honey.”

  Patrick did as he was told, and she felt instantly jealous that he could ignore an entire zombie apocalypse by smashing two cars together on her front seat.

  Billie said, “So you really think we can just go and hide on the outskirts of town and, by some miracle, your brother-in-law is going to find us? What magic thing is going to happen once he shows up? I mean, he is just a man, right—he doesn’t have any super powers, does he?”

  Patrick never turned around or stopped playing with his cars. “No, but he ain’t scared of guns, and he knows how to use a saw better than anybody you’ve ever seen. He can chop the head off of all those dead things walking around, and we can go back to normal good ol' living.”

  Billie was ready to snap from the stress of what was happening, but told himself quickly that yelling at the people who just saved him might not be the greatest idea.

  “So we just drive outside of town and hang out for a few days," Michelle said. "I guess things could be worse; I mean, what would happen if you two would have already left this morning? The two of us would have been dead because someone doesn’t believe in knowing how to protect himself.”

  Billie said, “Would you like me to learn how to shoot one of those damn guns—is that what you want, woman?”

  Michelle, barely missing a beat said, “Are you kidding me? Are you really asking me that the very day when it's too late? If you would have just learned years ago, maybe you’d be a fighter—not someone waiting to be saved. You aren’t gonna be able to learn now, because about the only way you'll be able to get your hands on a gun now is if you take it from a dead person. Anyone who has one is going to treat that damn thing like it's precious gold. What do you have to say for yourself now, Billie boy?”

  Billie leaned forward to just shy of Patrick’s ear and said, “Hey, kid, don’t ever, ever get married, no matter how good they look.”

  Michelle slapped him across the shoulder. “Are you kidding me? In the middle of our drive through hell, that is the one thing you think is most important for this little kid to know?”

  Billie sat back in his seat, arms crossed and shaking his head. “I don’t care what you say. There ain’t nothing I can do to learn how to shoot one now, anyway. So I don’t know why we need bring up dumb shit like that. I mean it, why can’t you just leave well enough alone?”

  “Because maybe, unlike you, I want to survive this damn thing.”

  Billie said, “Well, if you could just refrain from busting my balls on a daily basis, then maybe I'd want to live.”

  Maria turned around in her seat, ready to explode. “Would the two of you please shut up? I'm going to get in a car crash, having to drive with you screaming like that. You realize this is kind of a stressful situation I need to drive in, right? I mean, if you think it’s— “

  “Aunt Maria, look out!”

  She turned around, already swerving the wheel. A small horde of the dead were in front of her, and she'd swung in the wrong direction. Seeing what they were going into, Maria put an arm out to Patrick and leaned across him, pulling the lap belt across his legs and clicking it seconds before the Thunderbird went down front-first into the ditch, toward the river.

  The four of them screamed as Maria slammed on the brakes, praying it would stop in time. The rear wheel drive slid out of control and veered, thankfully away from the river, but directly into a massive oak tree older than the four of them put together. When it hit, the car halted at once, and everyone but Patrick was thrown into the object in front of them. A few minutes passed before Patrick was able to wake his aunt. He was shaking her wildly, screaming and crying at the same time. “Aunt Maria, you got to wake up, those things are coming down the hill! Those things are coming, Aunt Maria, they're coming!”

  Maria pushed up slowly, not having her bearings back just yet. She looked at the leather seat and at her hands. Maria could feel something sticky and warm on her forehead, and raised a hand to it to see that she had split her forehead open. Patrick grabbed a dirty shirt of his from the floor and handed it to her. She pressed it up against her forehead, wincing immediately from the pain. When she realized they had not been alone, she looked into the back and asked, “Billie, Michelle, are you two okay back there?”

  Billie screamed, which took care of that question. “My knee, I broke my knee. I ain’t going to be able to walk on this for anything.”

  Maria remembered when she’d let him in, how he had just barely fit into the backseat. The chances of Michelle and herself moving the large man were slim to none. Michelle said, “I'm okay, I just hurt my wrist, I think, when I put my hands out to stop myself. I guess we should have been wearing our seatbelts.”

  Billie snapped, “Well, it ain’t like it’s a law. I wouldn’t have needed the damn thing, nor would I have gotten hurt, if sweet-ass up there would have kept the car on the road.”

  Maria yelled, “Oh, you have to be kidding me, right? You smug son of a bitch. I wouldn’t have ever looked away from the wheel if the two of you would have just shut the fuck up while I was driving. Do you know how bad it is dealing with all this and then having to scream at the top of my lungs for the two of you to act your age?”

  They both shut up at this, but only for a moment. Michelle saw the horde coming and asked, “What are we going to do with them coming at us?”

  Maria turned the car over and was thankful when it started. Billie said, “You ain’t ever going to be able to get this damn car back up that hill. Where you want to go, for a drive through the woods?”

  Maria nodded, flooring the gas and taking them deep into the woods, bouncing the car up into the air as it went across the uneven ground. The scraping branches made it almost impossible to see. When they passed a fir tree that had blocked their view, all four screamed—Maria had driven straight into the Raccoon River. The water was flowing quickly, and took the car down the river, spinning it in the current.

  Patrick went left to right, looking out the window. He screamed, “Aunt Maria, you drove into the river. What’d you drive into the river for? Dad’s right, you are a horrible driver.”

  “Patrick, if I wasn’t driving—”

  Billie said, “You are floating, sweet cheeks, you aren’t driving. The kid is right: you are a shitty driver.”

  She let go of the wheel, realizing that she was just along for the ride. She looked to Patrick and said, “I’ll have you know that this is the only time I’ve ever had, or will have, this happen.”

  “Yeah, that’s great, sweet cheeks," Billie said, "but what are we going to do to get out of here?”

  Maria smiled. “Well, first thing I want to say is that if you call me sweet cheeks one more time, as soon as we get somewhere safe, where you aren’t going to get eaten, I’m going to kick you in the balls.”

  Patrick was giggling next to her, pointing at Billie. “She sa
id she’s going to kick you in the balls.”

  “Don’t say balls, Patrick, and you are most definitely right, I will kick him in the you-know-what if he says that again. Now, you want to know what we're going to do? I say we ride this damn thing down the river until we run back onto land. Wherever we end up is as good as anyplace to camp. We just need to do our best to get to land and get you two out of the car. We ride it until it stops.”

  Michelle said, “I’m sorry, but what are you trying to say, exactly?”

  “Nothing that isn’t the truth, Michelle. If you think you can fit through the window, then just speak up.” Michelle said nothing, and Maria continued. “We just need to open the doors and float out. But the first thing we do need is to be getting the tent and cooler and supplies from the back. Patrick and I will get out first. When we're ready, we'll signal for you, and then you two climb up over that front seat and just push the door open. From there, we just need to get to shore. That sound good enough to the two of you? You just won’t have a shit-ton of time once you open the doors, because that’s when it's guaranteed to sink.”

  They both nodded slowly, not really excited about the plan. Billie said, “So you two get out first because you aren’t challenged in the width department. Then, once you have everything you need, we get to fight our way out, is that pretty much it?”

  Maria scooted out, pulling herself up so her feet were on the edge of the door. She motioned for Patrick to come to her and, when he did, lifted him out and placed him on the roof. Maria hopped up with him, and he said, “This is like Indiana Jones, Aunt Maria. I can’t wait to tell Dad about this—he’s never going to believe me when I tell him.”

  She scooted to the edge of the trunk, popping it, not thinking of the intake of water which would take place as the car bobbed up and down. The car hit a log in the water, throwing her off-balance, and she clung to the car for her life. She looked at the gear, wondering how in the hell she would be able to get it and Patrick to the shore. She emptied the duffle into the oversized cooler, thanking God that the guns fit in it. Maria clicked the cooler shut and tied a rope from the trunk to it, as well.