The Zombie Plagues Dead Road: The Collected books.

by Geo Dell

  Lastly, I’m glad Candace and I have each other. It makes all of this easier to deal with.

  She asked me why I’m writing this journal. I felt kind of stupid. I told her why I started it though, and that I’m continuing it for someone in the future. Maybe a child? Someone to come later on?

  I expected her to laugh that off, or look at me like I was crazy, but she only nodded as if that made perfectly good sense. She told me she has a journal too. A diary, she said. Of course Lydia jumped on that as well. At first arguing against it, then saying she thought it might be okay. Tom said he wouldn’t do it. He said he’s not leaving to go anywhere and if someone shows up here, he’ll be here, not some journal. Okay.

  It’s stuff like that that makes me wonder. And, anyway, I only mentioned it; it wasn't like I wanted anyone else to do it or was trying to encourage someone else to do it. It's that kind of jump on it attitude I don't like, like they think I'm looking to screw them over somehow.

  But it’s all good. I’m alive. I looked back at some of what I wrote in here. I had no one just a short time ago. I didn’t even know whether there was anyone else. Now I have Candace. We have some plans, things we’ve begun to talk about, agree about. A little ego trouble with Tom is really just bullshit in the scheme of things. I have to try harder to look past that. Maybe I'm too damn sensitive. And anyway things are good. This could be a lot worse.

  A thing that bugs me and I can not figure out, where are all the bodies? I mean there don't seem to be enough bodies to match all of those that were killed. It bothers me. Maybe they weren't killed? But that makes no sense. Where would they be? I don't have an answer. I only know it bugs me.

  Lydia ~ March 13th

  Hi! My name is Lydia. I’ve never written a journal or kept a diary before. We’re all here in this cave. A cave, yes. We’re living in a cave. I can’t believe it! There are no showers, no toilets, no kitchen. Ha! We’re eating out of cans. It’s about as hard as it could be. I don’t know how cave men did it. Or cave women.

  We’re all writing these journals to leave them behind in case someone comes after we, or some of us, leave. I might not ‘cause I’m sort of with Tom right now, and he doesn’t want to go. There are six of us; Mike, Tom, Bob, Janet, me and a girl named Candace. We’re all stuck here until spring, I guess.

  I guess that you know all about the world ending or whatever it did. We don’t know. I don’t know. Not really anyway, but hopefully we’ll get everything fixed up pretty soon. I mean, a lot of stuff is F’d up, you know? But, like, it could get fixed up eventually.

  I had a boyfriend in the old world. His name was Paul, but I don’t know where he went. His apartment was gone. The whole street he lived on was gone. So I don’t know. It made me feel really bad. Hopefully this will be over really soon.

  We have, like, some old trucks now to drive around. We used to have to walk everywhere. That sucked. The trucks are really old, like shit boxes as Paul would’ve said, but at least we’re not walking, right? Paul had an old shit box truck too. These trucks are even older. If we break down we can’t call Triple A. Ha, Ha!

  There are six of us and Tom thinks more will come to us, probably know we're here and are just waiting. I guess that's cool.

  I don’t really know what else to write in here. I’ll write other stuff down too though. Oh, I’m almost nineteen…

  Candace ~ March 13th

  I did it. I don't know how I worked it out or where I found the courage to do it, but Mike and I are together. It's like I wasn't breathing, like I was waiting to breath. Something like that. All I know with absolute certainty is that tomorrow looks better. Isn't that all that's important?

  March ~ 14th

  Everyone was up early and ready to go before the sun was barely above the horizon.

  “Yesterday,” Tom said to no one in particular. “Thirty two hours long.” Silence greeted his remark. Candace checked her own watch.

  “So, like, that means things are slowing down?” Lydia asked.

  “You think?” Tom asked unkindly.

  “Well, something like that,” Lydia shot back defensively.

  “Why would it go backwards,” Bob asked?

  “Yeah. Wasn’t it supposed to stop, reverse and then start up again?” Lydia asked.

  “Maybe,” Mike agreed. “But that was all based on theory. No facts involved at all. I think they had some evidence that the poles had reversed at a few points in history before. And some legends that spoke about the Earth standing still for a day, something like that. But even so, that’s all theory, not fact.”

  “Yeah,” Tom chimed in. “It’s like an asshole. Everyone’s got one.”

  “Don’t you mean opinion?” Lydia asked sweetly.

  “Whatever. We ready to go, or what?” Tom asked. Everyone followed outside in the uncomfortable silence that fell.

  ~

  “What’s up with those two,” Candace whispered as she followed Mike outside.

  “Who knows,” Mike whispered back. Bob met his eyes and raised his eyebrows. Mike shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as if to say I don’t know.

  “We may as well take all three trucks,” Bob suggested. “That way if we find stuff we want it’ll save us driving back to get them.”

  “Easier if we get stuck also,” Candace suggested.

  Tom shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me,” he said. He headed for the Suburban with Lydia right behind him. Jan and Candace headed for the pickup truck. Bob broke into a laugh and grinned at Mike. “Guess that leaves me and you in the old dinosaur. Want to drive?”

  “After you,” Mike said laughing. Bob started the truck and pulled out last in line and followed the other two trucks as they picked their way along the edge of the ruined road.

  ~

  “It was me that asked Jan to go with Candace,” Bob said as they followed slowly along behind the other trucks.

  Mike nodded. His eyes following the sides of the road as Bob drove along. “I thought it was something like that,” he said. “What’s on your mind, Bob?”

  “Well… A lot,” Bob said after a second or two. He hesitated a little longer. “I guess mainly to say Jan and I would like to go with you when you leave, and Candace, I assume.”

  “Yeah,” Mike agreed. “I know that probably seemed kind of quick.”

  “It’s a…”

  “Quick world,” Mike finished. “Candace said the same thing. I don’t know how much better off we’ll be, but we’d be glad to have you two with us if you want to come.”

  “We would. Jan and I talked it over. We talked all night long last night. I got nothing personal against Tom; he did alright by us, but he’s a little too…”

  “Demanding? Aggressive?” Mike supplied.

  Bob looked thoughtful. “I don’t know… Something like that. I just don’t see him being able to see this through. I feel like if we came back here in ten years we’d find him still holed up in that cave. He’s… I don’t know... too immature to talk to about it. He has only one way of looking at things. That can’t work.”

  “You’re probably right. He’d still be here with Lydia, probably with a couple of babies running around. But, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe that’s a good thing.” He shrugged. “The immaturity… I don’t know… It’s there though. Maybe he’ll move out of that. Maybe it’s just the situation.”

  “Maybe,” Bob agreed. “But that’s exactly the time he should be mature, isn’t it?”

  Mike nodded. Bob continued.

  “So, maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But not for me. I don’t want to stay here. Nor Jan either. I wouldn’t want to quit this unless I knew this was all there was. I mean, this couldn’t be worldwide, could it?”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said softly. “But I agree. I know what you mean. Candace and I talked about it last night too and came to the same opinion. It could be better elsewhere, and whatever is right for Tom or Lydia isn’t necessarily right for us. I was for going fro
m the start. I have to know if this is really the end. If there’s anything else. If it is, I’ll deal with it, find a place to settle down. Thank God I have Candace, you and Jan. Maybe we’ll meet others on the way to... well, wherever.”

  “I think so,” Bob said. “There are people, other people around. We just got to find them. Or them us.”

  “Yeah, we got to remember rifles or pistols. I hate to say it, Bob, but we may need them.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah.”

  They continued on in silence as the small caravan made its way past a collapsed building partially blocking what was left of the road.

  “I think… It’s not my business,” Bob said, “But I think you made an enemy of Lydia. She was thinking you would be with her.”

  “Yeah, I could see that, Bob. I don’t think Tom was any too pleased either.”

  Bob nodded. “Nope, none too. Him I wouldn’t worry about though. Her, she’s pretty spiteful. I’ve only known her for a week, but it’s enough. That child did pretty much what she wanted to, I’ll bet. Used to having her own way, getting what she wants when she wants it.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. But last night we talked about the journals; I’m keeping one. Candace is too. Lydia said she would. Something to leave when we leave.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Bob agreed. “I’m not much for writing myself, but Jan might like it.”

  Mike nodded. “Well, Lydia liked the idea. She didn’t say she’d go, but she might. So, hate me or not, she might be with us.”

  “Oh,” Bob said. “I see that. Maybe she’ll be okay. She’s a kid; maybe she’ll change.”

  “Guess we’ll have to see,” Mike agreed. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

  Bob worked the truck up and over a huge slab of up-tilted asphalt and followed along behind the other two trucks as they made their way down Arsenal Street.

  “What did you think of the idea that Tom had of fixing up one of the new trucks?” Mike ventured after a few minutes.

  “Won’t work. Or at least it won’t work without a lot of trouble. The new engines are computer dependent. We could probably find ourselves another motor, maybe even a new crate motor at a parts store somewhere around here,” Bob said.

  “What’s a crate motor?” Mike asked.

  “It just means a new motor, all crated up when it was sent from the factory. They sell them. Race cars, old rebuilds, like that. But, even if we couldn’t find a crate motor, we could find enough parts to rebuild anything we would need to rebuild on nearly any vehicle. So really, when we’re done, we’d have what amounted to a new vehicle. Tom wants to oversimplify that. He thinks we can just find the parts and swap them out on the motor that’s in the truck. Maybe we can. I’m not that good though, and I don’t think he is. I think we should stick to what we can do for sure, utilize what we have - the new parts.”

  “That what you think we should do? Build a vehicle?”

  “Yeah. Maybe two. Four wheel drive, of course. Go right through them top to bottom, everything new. It would take a few weeks, but we’ve got that and more. Meantime, you could work on your Ham radio idea, “Bob finished.

  “Can you get electric? Those big Ham radio outfits need regular power.”

  “Yeah, that’s not a problem. We’ll just find a generator. That will give us all the power we need. We could even hook up a power inverter to give us one twenty in the vehicle,” Bob added.

  Mike nodded. “So we’re going to jump right into this thing? Get ready to go?”

  Bob nodded. “I’m with you. I’m not spending next winter in a cave unless I have to. There's a place in Tennessee, maybe Kentucky.” He closed his eyes for a split second as if seeing something only he could see. He shook his head, frowned and then continued. “If not, I’m thinking the coast. Southern or western, either will do, whichever one looks to be the better bet. And who knows how hard it’ll be to get there, so the sooner we’re ready to go, the better.”

  “I agree,” Mike said. “I’ll talk to Candace.”

  “And I’ll talk to Jan. But we already talked.”

  “So did we,” Mike agreed. They both laughed.

  Bob angled the big truck around a final piece of asphalt and into a cracked and buckled parking lot. The two other vehicles sat silent, waiting for them.

  As they left the truck, Mike noticed that the store hadn’t seemed to incur any more damage since the last time that he had been there. The roof was bowed inward; it had been before, but there were plenty of upright pillars that supported the roof and they all appeared intact. At least the ones he could easily see. The supports were spaced about every sixteen or so feet.

  “Safe?” Tom asked.

  “Looks the same as it did the last time,” Mike allowed. Candace and Bob looked at him, and he shrugged. “I’d say so. It looks the same as it did the last time I was here. It doesn’t even look as though anyone has been here.”

  The scattered, powdered snow seemed undisturbed around the shattered doorway that lead into the building. Mike snapped his flashlight on and led the way inside.

  The inside of the store told a different story. Someone had been there during the time Mike had last been there. Several of the glass display cases that held the weapons had been damaged. They were locked, who ever had made the attempt had made it halfheartedly. The glass was safety glass of some sort. It had cracked and spider webbed, but it had not broken and caved in.

  “Guess someone tried to get in,” Bob offered.

  Tom held up a discarded crow bar. Even in the weak light they could see the streaks of scarlet on one end. Tom let it fall to the floor. The clatter was loud enough to make Lydia draw in a quick breath in the broken silence that followed.

  “Jesus, Tom,” She sputtered. Tom only grinned.

  “Why does someone go through all of that when they could’ve taken a simple screw driver and just popped the locks?” Candace asked.

  “Well,” Tom started.

  Candace had walked behind the counter, taken a screw driver from her pocket and began to jimmy the lock mechanism. It was a cheap sliding set and easily bent to one side far enough to slide the glass door open. Candace smiled.

  “Learn that up in the big city, Miss?” Mike asked with a smile.

  Candace smiled back, reached inside the case, careful of the glass that had sprayed in small slivers from the spider webs in the top, and withdrew pistol after pistol, setting them on a wooden topped case next to the cash register.

  “Forty five caliber, Nine millimeter, a cheap one though. Three eighty, kind of nice, though small. Here’s a much nicer Nine Millimeter.” She set several more guns on the wooden top, looked up with a crooked grin and asked, “Well, gentlemen, lady, what’ll it be?”

  “You really know about this kind of shit,” Lydia asked in an awed voice.

  “Obviously well enough to know what’s what,” Tom said.

  “That’s right. Obviously well enough,” Candace agreed. She gave no further explanation.

  “What do you think, Candace?” Jan asked.

  “Yeah, what would be the best?” Mike asked.

  Candace shrugged. “It depends on what you like. I like a three eighty myself. It’s small, not as heavy as a Nine millimeter.” She pulled her own Nine Millimeter. “This was my Dad's. A good gun, but I liked the Three Eighty I had. A Three Eighty won’t really knock somebody down, not like you see in the movies. But a nine millimeter won’t always do that either. It’ll just make a bigger hole. If you want to knock somebody down, you need this.” She held up the bigger forty five caliber pistol. She held the mostly black pistol easily in one hand. “This will knock somebody down and kill them. And, on the off chance that your aim was bad and you didn’t immediately kill them, believe me, they are not going to feel like getting back up.” She grinned. “It’s still not like the movies. You know, where you see them flying backwards through the air. But, it will knock them down and keep them there.”

  “Jesus, Candy, I’m like in aw
e,” Lydia said.

  “Candace,” Candace said, “and thank you.”

  “So how do you know all that? Like for real, how do you know all that shit?”

  “My dad was a cop, not in Syracuse, before we moved there. He had a thing for guns. I just caught it. When he knew I was going to be like him when it came to guns, he sent me for training, safety stuff mostly, but I liked it so much I started buying my own weapons. I took the test. Eventually I would’ve had my foot in the door in Syracuse. That’s a good department. I would’ve been in already if not for the economy.”

  “The thing is, I love to shoot. I’m good too,” she sighed.

  “So… what'll it be?” She let the smile return to her face, reached over and began to jimmy another of the locks on the sliding glass doors.

  They spent the good part of two hours in the store. Camping gear, rifles, pistols and ammunition, Mike began to feel like they were equipping their own private army before they were done. Even so, by the time they left, everyone was carrying at least one pistol, and several rifles and boxes of ammunition had found their way into the back of the pickup truck. Candace, Mike noticed, had added a matte black forty five caliber pistol to the Nine Millimeter. She wore them in webbed holsters on a wide leather belt.

  “I thought you preferred a Three Eighty,” Mike said half jokingly as he replaced the Nine Millimeter he had decided on into the side holster he had chosen.

  “I do,” she said, “For shooting. But like I said, a Three Eighty can’t knock somebody down.” Her eyes met his.

  “Yeah… There is that,” Mike agreed quietly.

  They spent a short amount of time looking through a small convenience store in the same parking lot. There was very little left. Most likely cleaned out, Bob voiced, by the same folks who had tried to take the guns. This was evidenced by smears of maroon on the counter tops. Even so, they managed to find boxes of stuff in the storage area. They finished filling the backs of the trucks with basic First Aid stuff and several boxes full of candy bars and junk food too.

  The sun had been standing overhead for what seemed like hours. Bob spoke.

  “Hotter,” He said. “You can feel the heat. And,” He motioned with his hands, “the snow is melting faster as well.”