Dead Highways: Origins
Page 22
I had no response.
He won.
Chapter 38
Later that night we sat under the cover of darkness, surrounded by trees, huddling around a small fire Ted had built with his own two hands. We were maybe fifteen miles west of town, just off Highway 528.
We’d had to abandon the highway because it had become far too congested, and not with vehicles (though that was always a problem on the major roads), but with people. With infected people.
No matter what other insanity was going on in their brains, they knew to stick to the roads. They had figured out that these giant slabs of concrete were the best and easiest way to travel. Not that I believed they were following the road signs or anything. No, I think they had an unnatural sense of direction, like an invisible guide the rest of us couldn’t see, telling them which way it wanted them to go. And for now at least, it wanted them to go west. Somewhere west. And our crazy little group would follow them. To do that, we’d need to stay alive, and that meant keeping out of sight as much as possible.
So we’d left the cars on the highway and sneaked off into the woods, only taking with us the bare minimum of supplies. Three tents. Sleeping bags. Some weapons. Water. MREs. A few flashlights. And fuel to get the fire going. There in the woods we’d set up camp, and would stay for the remainder of the night. Until the sun came up.
We had agreed to sleep in shifts. Two people would be awake at all times, patrolling the campsite, keeping watch. The first shift would begin once enough of us got tired. I was third shift, with Diego. I had asked for it, so I could keep an eye on him. I still wasn’t sure that letting him come with us was the right decision.
But now it was time to eat. I was starving.
Ted boiled water in a small pot over the fire to make rice. When the rice finished cooking, he portioned it out onto small paper plates. Split between eight humans and one dog, it was hardly anything, certainly not enough to satisfy the monster growling in my belly. Bad enough it was just plain white rice. I inhaled it in two seconds and then waited for Ted to get out the MREs.
“How bad is this going to taste?” Bowser asked.
Ted unzipped a backpack, shined a flashlight inside. “Depends what you get.”
“What is there to choose from?” Naima asked.
“I would also like to know.” I leaned over, tried to get a peek inside the backpack. Ted yanked it away. “Hey, what’s the big deal?”
“Got a variety of stuff in here,” Ted said. “Chicken with rice. Chili mac. Cheese tortellini.”
“Mmm, chili mac sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take that one.”
“Now hold on a minute,” Robinson said, smiling. “What if I wanted that one?”
“Should I do a random drawing?” Ted said. “Like they do in the military.”
“Might be best,” Robinson said. “Just to keep things fair.”
“Okay, I promise I won’t look.”
Ted reached into the backpack and tossed an MRE at each of us. We all scrambled closer to the firelight to see what glorious meal we’d been drawn.
“Yes!” Bowser exclaimed. “Chili mac, bitches.”
Robinson friendly punched him in the arm. “You fucker.”
“What did you get?”
“Pork sausage with gravy,” Robinson replied, not sounding too happy about it.
Peaches snuggled up close to me. “I got the chicken and rice. Could have been worse, I guess. What you got?”
I had a hard time reading the brown package in the low light. Then I saw it.
Meatloaf.
It was official. God hated me.
When we were finished eating, Peaches asked me how it tasted.
“Best meatloaf I’ve ever had,” I said.
Peaches smiled. “Seriously?”
“No, it tasted like shit.”
“Aw, poor guy.”
Ted glanced over at Bowser. “How’d that chili mac taste?”
Bowser rubbed his stomach. “Trying to keep it down.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. You’ll get used to it.”
“What did Jax get?” I asked.
Robinson picked up the torn package. “Looks like he got the cheese tortellini. Lucky dog.”
The shepherd lay next to Robinson with a satisfied look on his face.
“I think I’m gonna go lay down,” Naima said, yawning. “I’m getting tired.”
Aamod stood up. “I will go too.”
“Okay. Remember you got fourth shift,” Robinson said. “After Jimmy and Diego.”
Aamod nodded, and then followed Naima inside one of the three tents. Peaches left to feed Olivia.
“Where’d Diego run off to anyway?” I asked. “He didn’t even eat.”
Diego’s MRE sat near the fire, unopened.
Robinson shrugged. “Guess he’s not hungry.”
“He’ll eat when he’s ready,” Ted said.
For the next hour, we swapped campfire stories, the most entertaining coming via Robinson, about a guy he once arrested who got explosive diarrhea in the backseat of his squad car. Bowser was the only one who didn’t seem amused. Not the best topic to discuss after eating chili mac, I suppose.
Finally, Robinson pulled me aside and surprised me with a gift. “I got something for ya.” He opened up his pack and pulled out a gun in a brown leather holster.
It was my gun.
My Sally.
“Holy crap. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”
“Well, I wasn’t gonna leave it there on the floor where you dropped it. Didn’t want Diego picking it up. Plus . . . I know how much she meant to you.”
Somehow, he’d said that with a straight face.
I smiled. “Even got me a holster.”
“Right. You can thank Ted for that.”
I was genuinely surprised. My Sally was back, and even better than before. Maybe God didn’t hate me after all. Now I wouldn’t have to worry about Sally blowing my dick off.
Wait, that didn’t come out right.
Hours later, I patrolled the campsite with Sally secured to my hip. I had a flashlight in my hand, pointing it down at the brush as I walked, looking out for snakes or other creatures that might mistake my leg for a midnight snack. The woods weren’t pitch black, but it was damn near close. If the moon was out tonight, the thick trees didn’t allow much of its light in, and other than the constant chirp of crickets and the occasional sound of a small animal scampering away, the woods was at peace.
But how long would that last?
I slowly made my way back toward the campsite, led by the dying orange embers that once were our fire. Diego sat next to it, poking at the charred remains with a stick.
I kneeled down next to him. “I think it’s dead.”
Maybe not the best choice of words, given we’d just buried Luna.
Diego didn’t even look over at me.
I got up and walked away, trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake anyone.
“I need a gun,” Diego whispered.
I immediately stopped, turned around. He was still gazing into the fire.
Finally, he looked up and said, “Help me.”
I walked back over and kneeled down next to him again. “I don’t get to make all the rules, Diego,” I whispered. “Everyone agreed. You’ll get a gun when you’re ready.”
“I didn’t agree.”
“It’s gonna take some time to earn back everyone’s trust.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Diego said. “But if I could earn back your trust, Jimmy, at least for tonight. Then . . .”
Diego looked back down at the dwindling fire.
“Then what?”
“Then what anyone else thinks of me won’t matter anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“I think you know.”
Moments later, I sat by the fire alone, an empty holster on my hip, while Diego went off to go on patrol.
Before leaving, he stopped at the edge of the c
ampsite and said, “Jimmy, can you do one more thing for me?”
I stared at the outline of him against the darkness, barely able to make out the pistol in his hand. “What?”
“Tell Robinson I’m sorry about what I said.”
Then he was gone.
I poked at the fire with the same stick Diego had used. Not a minute passed before I heard the gunshot.
I sprang to my feet and hurried in the direction Diego had gone, sweeping the flashlight back and forth out in front of me. Fifty yards or so from the campsite, I came upon him. He lay still in the brush. I shined the flashlight down, saw the bloody remains of his head, and then quickly switched the flashlight off.
He had committed suicide, and I had assisted him. In my heart, I think I’d known he was going to do it, and still I’d given him the gun. Perhaps even that’s why I’d given him the gun, so he could leave the group willingly and none of us would have to worry about him anymore.
Robinson had said we needed to help him. I had done the opposite. I had helped us.
And yet, I felt like I’d handed over my humanity when I’d given him the gun.
Even if it was his choice to take his own life. Even if all he wanted was to be with Luna again, in heaven—if such a place existed outside this ugly world.
Had I made the right decision? I’d spend the rest of my life trying to answer that question. It would haunt me.
My head hurt as my mind searched for the truth my subconscious already knew.
And if that weren’t bad enough, as I trembled in the darkness, I began to hear a rustling in the distance, coming from all directions.
Getting closer.
Louder.
I wanted to run back to camp and warn the others, but my legs felt anchored to the ground. The gunshot had given away our location, and whoever or whatever was out there in the dark woods was now heading our way.
The Adventure Continues . . .
Dead Highways: Passage
Books by Richard Brown
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Dead Highways: Origins (Book 1)
Dead Highways: Passage (Book 2)
Titanic with Zombies
Knifed – A Short Horror Comic
Table of Contents
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38