Dead Highways: Origins

by Richard Brown

  I took a deep breath. “Nobody knows better than me how you feel. Watching my grandma walk away, knowing I’d never see her again, was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  She took her eyes off the horizon and looked over at me. “How are you dealing with it?”

  “It’s a struggle. I’ve got that last image of her burned into my brain. I try to think of the good times, but right now they just seem so far away.”

  “Yeah.” She looked back out at the water. “So far away.”

  “Everything just happened so fast. My head is still spinning, trying to figure out where I am, and what I’m supposed to do. The world may look the same, but underneath it’s changed. And now we have to change with it. We have no other choice. We have to adapt to survive.”

  “Adapt? Why? What’s the point in living if every second we’ll be worrying about dying? My dad’s probably right. We’re not gonna make it like this. At least I won’t.”

  “I think you’re stronger than you realize.”

  “I don’t want to kill anybody.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “But you will, if you have to. And I know my dad will too, even if it’s only to protect me. But I won’t do it. It’s just . . . wrong.”

  I looked back at the others meandering about. Aamod sat in the passenger seat of his Toyota reloading his shotgun.

  “It’s not like those people back at the house chose to be violent,” Naima continued. “It wasn’t their fault. It was beyond their control. And they didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Do we?”

  “No.”

  “Then as much as it hurts, as much as it’s wrong, we have to do what we have to do, don’t we? You’re right that none of this is their fault. But it’s not our fault either.”

  “I know. That’s why I feel so stuck, I guess. And the more I think about it, the more it weighs on me.”

  “It’s taking its toll on all of us,” I said. “I don’t want to kill anybody. Hell, I couldn’t even kill Jerry, and that guy probably deserved to die. But if I have no—”

  “Hey!” Robinson yelled. “Get over here! We have to go you guys! Hurry!”

  Our hiding spot was no more.

  From the east came a wave of infected people. They descended the hill from the interstate, not hurrying, taking their time. But I wasn’t taking my time, and neither was Naima. We ran to the cars as fast as we could.

  Halfway there, Sally slipped out of my waistband, so I stopped to rescue her. Lord knows she’d already rescued me a few times.

  “Jimmy!” Naima yelled.

  “Go on,” I said, bending down. “I’ll catch up.”

  I think she thought I slipped. No, Naima, I’m not that clumsy.

  Okay, maybe I am.

  I snatched up Sally and then continued my mad dash toward the car, not taking my eyes off the growing number of infected swarming upon our position. Bowser stood in front of Robinson’s squad car and emptied the remainder of his pistol into the crowd of crazies. The only thing he hit was air. Nobody went down, and instead seemed to pick up the pace.

  I made it into the Buick just before the first of the infected, a sharp dressed man in a three-piece suit, could prevent me from shutting the door. I hit the automatic lock switch, even though I don’t think they had any idea how to open car doors. Whoops, wrong again. He began pulling at the handle as some of his buddies showed up to help.

  “Get us out of here!” Peaches yelled. Olivia was awake in her lap, crying like a baby.

  “I’m trying,” I said, fumbling with the keys.

  I started the car and looked in the rearview mirror. A half dozen infected slammed their faces against the rear window, trying to get at Diego and Luna in the backseat. The Hispanic couple had a hazy look in their eyes, like they’d just finished watching a 3D movie without glasses.

  Ahead, Robinson made a U-turn and started heading back the other way, no regard for how many people he hit with his car. They bounced off the windshield and sailed uncontrollably to the ground. Human road kill. I imagined Diego probably had a strong case of déjà vu. It usually happens when there’s a glitch in the matrix.

  Aamod finally began moving. About time. I followed right on his tail, maybe too close, as a moment later we collided into the back of his Toyota, twisting his bumper. Fucking Japanese toy cars.

  “Why did he stop?” Luna asked.

  “I don’t freaking know,” I said, frustrated, honking the horn. “Move . . . what are you doing?”

  It was impossible to see out of the side and back windows. Dozens of the infected surrounded us, banging their hands on the car.

  “Can we back up?” Diego asked.

  “I can try,” I said, throwing the gearshift into reverse. “I’ll go slowly. Don’t want anyone getting stuck under the car.”

  As I backed up, the infected backed off. Somewhat. I put the car into drive and began to pull out when I saw Robinson racing back our way, fast as a bullet, swerving right and left, clearing the lane—knocking people over like bowling pins.

  Poor Jax. He must have been having a hell of a time in the backseat trying to keep his paws steady.

  “That guy’s insane,” Diego said.

  I laughed a little. “Whatever works.”

  And it was working. He was drawing their attention, which was good for us. He sped by again and made a second run, adding to his already high score. It was carmageddon. Clouds of dirt hung in the air.

  Finally, he slid in next to us and came to an abrupt stop. Somehow, he managed not to shear off our side mirror. His passenger window started down. I hit the power window button but stopped it at the halfway point. We were close enough that no one could get between us unless they were one of those freaky contortionist people. In fact, if my window were all the way down, I could probably lean out and give Bowser a kiss on the cheek.

  Muah.

  Then he’d turn my face into a dripping pile of warm goo.

  I kept my head safely inside our car. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s stuck!” Robinson yelled, pointing at Aamod.

  “How did he get stuck?” I yelled back.

  “He fell into a muddy rut. Probably leftover from yesterday’s rain.”

  In front of us, the infected encircled Aamod’s Toyota like a pack of rabid dogs.

  “So what do we do?”

  “You need to try and push him out with your car. Or get out of the way so I can.”

  “Can you at least try to draw them away for me?”

  I really didn’t want to sandwich anyone between the two cars. At this point, I still had some heart left.

  Robinson gave me the thumbs up. Then he put up his window and took off in a hurry, taking my side view mirror with him.

  Really, God?

  Really?

  Could have done without that.

  Robinson did donuts in the dirt lot, kicking up even larger clouds of orange dust than before, but the infected wouldn’t leave Aamod’s Toyota. They were starting to learn that jumping in front of cars was a bad idea.

  Oh, bloody hell. Looks like I’d have to be the bad guy after all. If my grandma only knew what I was about to do with her car, she’d try to strangle me a second time.

  I revved the engine, hoping they’d get the clue.

  Louder.

  Peaches was bracing for impact, one arm holding Olivia, the other grasping the oh shit handle.

  “You’re not gonna ram them, are you?” Peaches asked.

  “Um . . . yeah.”

  “Why don’t you just try and push them?”

  “Cause I don’t think that’s gonna work. It’s hard enough for our tires to get a grip out here.”

  “You could at least try.”

  Fine. I’d try. For her.

  I let my foot off the gas. Slowly, the car crept forward, until it met human resistance. Three infected were caught between our front bumper and Aamod’s already busted-up rear bumper. For those unlucky three, what happened next w
as like pulling off a Band-Aid slowly, except a thousand times worse.

  I eased into the gas, trying not to spin the tires.

  The Buick pressed forward into the thighs and kneecaps of the three infected. Crushing arteries. Stretching muscle tissue. Breaking bones. I was glad I wasn’t outside to hear the snap.

  I gave it more gas.

  Aamod’s car would lurch forward, and then roll backward.

  More gas. More power.

  The three infected writhed forward and backward, falling against the hood, their legs useless. The car was the only thing holding them up.

  The Buicks tires started to spin.

  “This isn’t working. We’re gonna have to ram them.”

  Peaches handed off Olivia to Luna in the backseat. “Keep a good hold on her, okay?”

  I backed up. The three infected immediately collapsed to the ground. One tried to crawl away, as if he knew what was coming next. “Tell me when you’re ready,” I said.

  “I’m ready,” Peaches said.

  I looked back at Diego and Luna—at Olivia, no longer crying.

  The lovebirds looked at each other, and then said, “We’re ready.”

  Peaches took her eyes off the broken man trying to crawl away, and looked over at me. “You just gonna run them over?”

  “Unless you want to get out and move them.”

  Peaches said nothing.

  “Didn’t think so.” I looked in the rearview again. More and more were coming down the slope from I-95. Robinson couldn’t take them down fast enough. “Here goes.”

  Destruction derby.

  I hit the gas and rammed my grandma’s Buick into the back end of Aamod’s Toyota. The impact wasn’t nearly as great as I had expected. Like a series of speed bumps, the now dead bodies in front of the car were slowing us down, killing our momentum. I backed up and tried again with much the same result. Aamod’s bumper was barely hanging on, but his car wouldn’t budge. As I backed up to make a third attempt, Aamod stuck the barrel of his shotgun out the window and started picking people off, often two with one shot. Then he pushed open the door, leapt out, and began running toward the water. The wrong damn way.

  “What’s he doing?”

  Nobody answered, and I was glad. Soon as the words left my mouth, I figured it out.

  He was leading them away. Dozens and dozens of them.

  He was creating his own diversion.

  Moments later, the passenger door slowly came open and Naima stuck her head out. Realizing the coast was almost clear, she hurried out and over to us.

  I unlocked the doors. Diego and Luna scooted over to make room for Naima in the backseat.

  “Good to see you again,” I said.

  “Now we have to get my dad. This was his crazy idea.”

  On the other end of the lot, Aamod was running in circles, chased by the horde of infected. Every now and then he’d turn and shoot a few more down. Robinson raced by again, sliding and crashing recklessly through the middle of the crowd, barely missing Aamod. He must have learned how to drive from playing Road Rash. One woman hit the windshield and flew off so far she landed—with a splash—in the water ten yards away.

  I was afraid to pull the car out, thinking Robinson might not expect it and we’d end up accidently colliding.

  “Come on,” Naima said. “We have to do something.”

  Aamod started running back our way. Robinson did a quick U-turn and drove up beside him. The passenger door opened and Aamod jumped inside the moving car like a stuntman on some action movie. I never knew Aamod did his own stunts. Pretty impressive for the owner of a convenience store. His feet hung out for a moment, dragging on the ground, and then they disappeared inside the car.

  Was he sitting on Bowser’s lap, I wondered.

  As they drove past us, Robinson stuck his arm out the window and gave the international sign for we’re going this way, dummy.

  Yes, officer.

  I pulled out, turned around, and followed Robinson back down the long dirt road that ran beside the interstate. Before long, most of the infected were in the rearview, still running after us—those that weren’t twisted up like pretzels on the ground, that is—but falling further and further behind.

  When we reached the turnoff, Robinson pulled over so I could get out front.

  So I could lead the way to Guns Unlimited.

  Chapter 33

  “There’s so many.”

  It was Peaches, and she was referring to all the people crossing the roads, between buildings, over bridges. We saw thousands of them, even as we stuck to the roads less travelled. Thankfully, they didn’t try to run after us. Most didn’t even acknowledge us as we passed them by. They just walked, head forward, hands down at their sides, like drones being led somewhere by an invisible hand. If there were any still in a coma, I no longer saw them. Every car in the road was empty now, abandoned, often left with the door still wide open, giving me one more obstacle to avoid.

  “You think this is a lot,” I said. “Imagine what it’s like in a big city.”

  “But where do you think they’re going?” Luna asked.

  “Probably just roaming aimlessly.”

  I cautiously swerved around a fat woman wearing clothing at least two sizes too small. Typical attire around here.

  I had to be careful. They might not be chasing after us, yet. But I knew if I made one wrong move, got in one minor accident, they’d be all over us like stink on a hippie. And that, my friend, is no joke.

  Something else that was no joke was the smell of a dirty diaper. Naima was changing Olivia in the backseat. When she was finished, she tossed the diaper out of the window. In the rearview, I saw a few of the infected stop momentarily and investigate the stink bomb, and then continue on their merry way.

  The same direction.

  West, I suddenly realized.

  “Have you noticed they’re all going west?”

  “The thought crossed my mind earlier,” Naima said. “But you’ve made so many turns, I lost my sense of direction. Then I had to change Olivia, so . . .”

  “First time?”

  “What?”

  “Changing a baby,” I said.

  “Um . . . I think I changed one of my nephews before. But that was a few years ago now.”

  I nodded. “My first time was yesterday. What about the rest of you?”

  “Nope,” Diego said.

  Then Luna weighed in. “I’ve changed my sister’s kids too many times to count.”

  “What about you, Peaches? When was your first time?”

  “What? Oh, sorry,” Peaches said. “I was zoning out. What did you say?”

  “I asked about your first time.”

  Peaches looked at me and smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Everyone started laughing.

  “Your first time changing a diaper,” Naima said.

  “Oh, what the fuck. I told you I was zoning out.”

  I smiled. “Good thing you’re not driving.”

  We were almost there. Guns Unlimited was just down the road from home, the used bookstore. It was close enough I even walked there a few times. Of course, since I didn’t have a concealed weapons permit, I had to wear extra clothing to keep Sally hidden. Today that wouldn’t matter.

  I turned onto my street, and it was just as I had remembered. The same cars as yesterday lay deserted in the road, only now the passengers had cleared out.

  “I was thinking of stopping by my place real fast,” I said.

  “What for?” Peaches asked.

  “Just to get a few things. All the stuff I packed is at Robinson’s, and I have a feeling we won’t be going back there.”

  “So is mine.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t have somebody’s blood all over you. I’d be happy with just a change of clothes.”

  I pulled into the lot and parked in front of the bookstore. It felt like I hadn’t been there in forever, even though it was less than a day. Robinson pulled in n
ext to us.

  Nobody got out. We talked through the windows. Bowser had apparently moved into the backseat with Jax at some point during the destruction derby. I knew he’d never be cool with Aamod sitting on his lap.

  “Changing clothes?” Robinson said.

  Jesus, what did he have the car bugged?

  I nodded. “Shouldn’t take long.”

  Aamod turned and said something to Robinson, but I couldn’t hear what it was.

  Then Aamod opened the passenger door and got out. He still had the shotgun in his hand, though I couldn’t imagine he had many shots left, if any. Luckily, there weren’t many people around. Perhaps a dozen in sight, and none walking our direction. I hoped Aamod didn’t want to help me change clothes.

  “What’s going on?”

  Aamod began walking away, toward the convenience store across the street, while Bowser got out and moved into the front seat.

  “He’s going to get us some food and drinks,” Robinson finally said.

  “Then I’m going with him,” Naima said, opening the back door.

  Aamod looked back, scolded her, and then kept on walking.

  Naima settled back into the car.

  “Wouldn’t it have been safer to drop him off at the door?” I asked.

  Robinson shrugged. “He insisted on walking. He’s a bit of a free spirit. Tell you what, how about me and Bowser head on down to the gun shop and have a look around. Once you’re done changing, go across the street and pick up Aamod, and then meet us down the road. Sound good?”

  Hmm. I thought about it. Splitting up always sounded like a better idea than it ever turned out to be. But I was glad somebody else wanted to make the tough decisions for once.

  “Whatever you think is best,” I said. “Do you want to take my gun?”

  “You mean Sally?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, you keep her. We’ll be fine. We’ve got Jax.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot. The love dog.”

  Robinson smiled. “You keep those girls safe.”

  I wondered if Diego was offended.

  “You sure you know how to get there?”

  “I know the way,” Bowser replied.

  “Okay. See ya there, then.”