“No.”
“That’s too bad.”
I popped the magazine into the rifle and charged the bolt. “You saw all the stuff Ted had in his garage. I couldn’t grab everything.”
“You gonna be able to hit anything from this far away?”
“Well, if things go like I want, I won’t need to be accurate.” I shut the door and focused back on the infected maybe seventy-five yards away. “I’m not looking for head shots. I don’t even really care if I hit anything, long as I get their attention. So … stay ready. We might have to leave in a hurry.”
Peaches slid out of the car, Olivia wrapped up in her arms. “What exactly do you want me to do again?”
“Just keep your eyes out. There could be more in the area. Don’t want to get ambushed from behind.”
I walked out to the edge of the pond and shouldered the rifle. I’d never shot a target at this distance before, nor was I that proficient with the rifle yet, but with thirty rounds at my disposal I hopefully wouldn’t need to be.
I took aim at the biggest target I could see, and then pulled the trigger.
Round one was a hit. Success! The fat infected man crumbled to the ground. Unfortunately, no one else moved, not even the two on either side of him. They stood, staring at the back of the persons head in front of them.
Round two would achieve better results. Slightly better. After seeing the second of their fellow psychos hit the deck, three of the infected peeled off from the crowd and began running our way. As I expected, the pond acted as a nice barrier, forcing them to go all the way around to reach our position. I fired off five or six rounds at the three defectors before I realized hitting fast moving targets at long distance was near impossible. To make matters worse, they didn’t all head the same way around the pond—two went left and one went right—which had me whirling around, trying to aim and shoot two different directions.
“Peaches!” I yelled. “Get ready to go!”
I took my sights off the three running our way, now almost clear of the pond, and aimed back at the crowd in the distance. I sprayed a dozen more bullets, half finding a mark, before lowering the rifle and running back to the SUV. I’d managed to get five or six more concertgoers to leave the main stage. The first three converged upon us just as I made it back in the driver’s seat and shut the door. One of them disappeared under the front bumper as I jumped the curb and slid out on to the road. Moments later, we were flying east down Lee Vista Blvd. The infected didn’t bother chasing us.
We stopped at a church a half mile down the road.
“That didn’t work at all,” Peaches said.
I sighed. “They were supposed to scatter. A few at a time is useless. It would take a much better shooter, and probably more ammo then we got in that box, to clear enough of them out.”
“I think I saw another SUV on the side of the building when we were driving off.”
“White?”
“Yeah, it looked just like this one.”
“Hmm. These might be some type of unmarked government vehicles. I don’t have any doubt they’re trapped in there, but I wonder how long they’ve been surrounded like that.”
“They’re probably wishing they left earlier.”
“Then we need to make them glad they stayed. We have to break them out somehow.”
For a few minutes, we sat in silence. I tried to think of ideas—something infinitely more brilliant than shredding through them Robbie Robinson style with the car—but was coming up empty. Since we were in a church parking lot, I prayed to God to give me answers, and if not, please bestow upon Peaches the wisdom to guide us toward a better idea.
Finally, she turned to me and said, “If we had a plane, we could drop bombs on them.”
Oh geez. So much for Peaches saving the day.
“Too bad Ted didn’t have any grenades,” she continued, smiling wildly.
She wasn’t serious, but she seriously got me thinking.
Thank you, God!
We didn’t have a plane. Or bombs. Or grenades. But if we could find the right ingredients, we might be able to assemble the poor man’s equivalent.
“I have an idea,” I said, and pulled out of the church parking lot.
Across the street was a residential neighborhood. I idled along, looking for any open garage doors.
“What’s the plan?” Peaches asked. “Where are we going?”
I turned left at a stop sign and continued down a long stretch of road, passing a dozen or more houses before finding one with the garage open. I pulled into the driveway and put the car in park.
“We need gasoline,” I said, and hopped out.
Peaches followed me into the garage. “There are gas stations all around.”
“Yeah, and they’ve all got no power. Pumps are probably shut off.”
I searched the garage but found no portable cans of gasoline.
“Well … shit. I guess we keep looking. These people don’t even have a lawnmower. Or any lawn equipment.”
“This neighborhood is pretty nice. They probably pay someone to take care of their lawn. Or they did.”
“There’s gotta be someone around here who mows their own lawn.”
“Maybe, but what do you need gasoline for anyway … you gonna set something on fire?”
“Yep,” I said, climbing back into the car.
Peaches climbed in the other side. “What?”
“Them.”
The search went on. We had to turn around when the street led into a dead end.
“Have you ever siphoned gas from a car before?” I asked.
“No, never had a reason to do that.”
“Neither have I. But we do now. If we can’t find any gas cans, we might have to give it a shot. We passed a Home Depot on Narcoossee just before we reached the Walgreens. Bet we can find some plastic tubing there. I remember Ted had some in his garage, but I didn’t really consider what it was for at the time.”
“So … should we just try that then?”
I stopped the car back at the house with the open garage. “Tell you what, let’s go door to door. I bet some of these houses are unlocked.”
We both exited the car.
“Are we splitting up?” Peaches asked.
I smirked. “Absolutely not. But we need to hurry. Sun will be down soon.”
Three houses down from the SUV we found a house with the backdoor unlocked. Went inside. Looked around in the dark garage. No gasoline.
Errrrrr.
We checked a second house, but the third one was the charm.
“Bingo,” I said, lifting up the red gas canister. “Almost full too.”
“How many gallons are in there?”
I carried the heavy can into the house and set it on the kitchen counter where I could read the label. “Five gallons.”
“Is that enough?”
“That’s up to the infected. I sure hope it is.”
“Before we go, I gotta go.”
Peaches handed Olivia off to me and headed for the bathroom. Women and their small bladders.
By the time she was done, I had to go too.
I handed Olivia back and left to drain the main vein. When I returned, I grabbed the five-gallon can of gas and we left the house.
We headed back down Lee Vista toward the Walgreens. I slowed down as the building appeared up on the left. I saw the white SUV Peaches had mentioned. The infected who had rounded the pond in pursuit of us had all rejoined the large group in front of the store. Except for one. The fastest of the three, a skinny guy who had made the mistake of jumping in front of the car. He lay twisted on the curb, not moving. Dead. However, the virus inside of him, I knew, was very much still alive.
I stopped the car next to him, jumped out, drew Sally, and shot him in the head. None of the infected across the water seemed to respond to the loud noise.
I jumped back into the car, glanced over at Peaches. “Let’s see him come back from that.”
“Shoul
dn’t he have already come back? It’s been at least twenty minutes or so since he died. Nicole came back quicker than that, didn’t she?”
“But Nicole contracted the mutated version directly, which is clearly much stronger, and more deadly. Remember when we left Ted’s yesterday evening with the group. The bodies in the road were all still there, and it had been hours since they’d died. When we went back this morning many of them were gone, and the remaining ones had been eaten. So it’s hard to say exactly how long it takes for the virus to mutate once they die, but it must be at least six hours.”
Peaches sighed. “God … this is a nightmare.”
I had no argument or encouraging words to add.
We pulled in to a 7 Eleven across the street from the Walgreens.
“What are we getting here?” Peaches asked.
“Lotto, of course,” I said. “Look at that Powerball jackpot.”
“No, really.”
The three of us got out, two of us under our own power, and went into the store. Right near the entrance, stacked in cardboard boxes, was what we came for—cheap sparkling wine. I pulled a bottle out, examined it.
“That didn’t take long,” I said. “No cork, either.”
“What are we gonna do with wine bottles?”
I smiled. “Make cocktails, my dear.”
Peaches smiled back. “Oh, okay, I get it now.”
“I knew you would.”
I carried the box outside and started emptying the bottles, twelve in all. I figured we’d have to find a corkscrew, but the twist off caps made things super easy—a real time saver. Good thing too, cause we were about to lose light. The sky was turning a darker shade of blue by the minute. Peaches was still inside the store searching for some rags we could tie on to the bottles. I had half of the bottles emptied when she came outside.
“Will these work? I found them in the back.”
She handed me some old stained cleaning rags. I counted them. “They’ll probably work. There’s only five though. Was there any more back there?”
“I’ll check.”
She left. While she was gone, I finished pouring out the wine from the remaining bottles. Then I got the gas can out of the car, took off the cap, and screwed on the spout.
“Found three more,” Peaches said, exiting the store.
“Eight in all then. I guess that’ll have to do.” I set each of the wine bottles back in the box so they wouldn’t fall over while I poured the gas.
“Olivia needs to be fed.”
“Okay, go for it,” I said. Peaches fixed a bottle for Olivia and then sat down on the curb beside me. “How is she doing on formula?”
Peaches shrugged. “Okay for now. But it goes fast. Diapers are kinda low.”
“We’ll get some more soon.”
“She’ll be fine,” Peaches said, looking down at Olivia happily sucking from the plastic baby bottle. “Won’t you girl? You’re the toughest one of all.”
I smirked. “That’s probably true.”
“How many bottles can you fill?”
“We’ll see.” Turns out, I could have filled them all, but I stopped at eight. I screwed the caps back on the eight bottles to seal in the gasoline. “Got four practice bottles left.”
“What?”
“To practice throwing. We need to see how far away we can stand.”
“Shouldn’t you fill them then, so they’re the same weight?”
“Yeah, okay. No … hold on.” I went back inside the store and brought out another box of twelve bottles. “Let’s just use these. Weight should be close enough.”
Once Peaches finished feeding Olivia, we started throwing.
“Six each,” she said. “What are we aiming for?”
“Um … how about that dumpster?”
“I don’t know. That’s pretty far away.”
The dumpster was on the far end of the lot, surrounded by a concrete wall and fenced off in the front so no one could go diving.
“You might be able to hit it,” I said.
“I know I can. I’m worried about you.”
I laughed. “Good one.”
I threw first, starting with three of my six bottles for warm-up. Two of the three hit the dumpster, while the third landed just in front, shattering into many large chunks of glass. The wine inside splattered out in all directions.
“Not bad,” Peaches said. “Here, let me try. Take Olivia.”
Peaches stood ten paces back from where I had stood and achieved similar results through her first three throws.
But would I let her outdo me?
Hell no!
Now she’d see what I was really made of.
After my final throws, it was clear that what I was made of was sugar and spice and everything nice. Not a single bottle hit the target. Not one. Nada.
Stupid, scrawny arms.
I felt dejected. More so, after Peaches hit the dumpster two out of her last three throws from the furthest point yet.
“I guess that settles it,” I said. “You’re throwing.”
“I had good reason to be worried about you.”
I smiled. “Showoff.”
“Where should we tie the rags … on the neck, right?” Peaches asked.
“Try tying them on the lower end of the bottle. That way you can grab a hold of the neck to throw.”
“Oh, good thinking.”
The rags were just large enough to fit snuggly around the base. When we were finished tying them off, I went into the 7 Eleven to get a grill lighter and a bottle of lighter fluid. I stuck both into the box with the eight Molotov cocktails.
“Is that it?”
I set the box into the backseat of the SUV next to the rest of our supplies. “I think so. Now we just need a plan.”
“I thought you had a plan.”
Ten minutes later, we were in position. I parked the SUV in roughly the same spot as I had before, across from the retention pond. Moments earlier, I had dropped Peaches off closer to the building, behind a red sedan on the outer edge of the Walgreens parking lot. The car would give her some cover while she tossed the bottles.
I grabbed two full magazines, popped one into the rifle, and stuck the other one in my pocket. Then I climbed on to the hood of the car and shouldered the rifle. I could see Peaches poke her head up over the top of the red sedan, waiting for my signal. Below me, inside the SUV, I could hear Olivia start to cry. She probably needed to be changed, but that would have to wait. We had work to do first.
We’d hit the horde of infected from both sides, with fire and with bullets, simultaneously. If that didn’t get their attention, nothing would.
I pointed the rifle up at the darkening sky and fired one shot.
It was the signal.
Right on point, Peaches threw the first of the eight Molotov cocktails. The glass bottle sailed through the sky, end over end, the attached rag burning gloriously, and crashed to the ground right in front of the outer layer of infected. A perfect throw, if I ever saw one. This chick was amazing. As the glass broke, gasoline sprayed out in all directions, ignited by the burning rag, creating multiple strips of fire that instantly engulfed numerous infected. Without pause, they did what anyone would do when on fire. They freaked out. And the best part was, the others around them began to freak out too, especially after another bottle crashed nearby, producing a rolling wave of hot, orange flames.
I opened fire. I didn’t aim at any specific target, just the group as a whole. In a matter of seconds, I’d emptied half of the magazine, successfully wounding at least five infected. Unlike last time, none peeled off from the group and ran my way. They were blind to me, more concerned with the growing flames. Those that had caught fire shambled madly off into the crowd, spreading the fire to many others. I continued shooting, finishing off the first magazine, while Peaches continued hurling our homemade grenades over the red car, adding more fire to an already fiery lot.
Slowly, the crowd began to disperse. Peaches did a g
reat job throwing the cocktails in different locations to spread the fire as wide as possible. I lost count as to how many she’d thrown. I kept shooting, taking closer aim now that the infected weren’t packed in so tight. Overhead, the blue sky was fading to black. Nightfall was upon us, making the flaming bottles an even more remarkable sight. They coasted through the air, falling like tiny meteorites to the ground, releasing liquid death upon all near the area of impact.
With the first magazine empty, I snatched the second from my pocket, popped it into the rifle, and began shooting again. A dozen rounds later, I lowered the rifle. There was no point in blowing my load too fast, especially since it was having less of an effect now that the large crowd had begun to thin out—those that were still alive, anyway. Dozens of bodies lay on the ground, a few still burning.
Peaches stopped throwing cocktails and began yelling my name. It was too dark out now to spot her hiding behind the red car, but I had no problem seeing the man on fire lumbering toward her position. Three more infected immediately followed him. Then four more.
I hurried down from the hood of the SUV and jumped into the driver’s seat, hoping Peaches remembered the plan.
The SUV’s auto headlights came on and I was off, spinning around the corner of Lee Vista back on to Narcoossee Road. I had told Peaches if she got into trouble to make for the center of Narcoossee. As I rolled past the Walgreens on the left, more and more infected ran from the parking lot to the road. I hit the brakes, trying to avoid running anyone over and causing a multiple body pile up. To the right I saw Peaches cross to the other side of the road, the infected right on her tail.
A moment later, a ball of fire erupted behind her.
I guess she had one cocktail left.
However, the infected weren’t the least bit intimidated anymore. She was so close now, right within their grasp. I was the only thing standing between them and the revenge they so desired.
No more being nice.
I hit the gas and plowed over the grassy median, knocking a few people out of my way in the process. I slid out into the road, thrown about in my seat. Through the crowd, I saw Peaches run into the parking lot of a Tire Kingdom. A parade of infected admirers followed her. The rest swarmed upon the SUV, surrounding me.
Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage Page 7
