Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage

by Richard Brown

  “Is she infected?”

  “I guess she was, if that’s what you wanna call it. Not anymore.” Sam bowed his head. “I checked her pulse when I went to bed last night and she was still alive. When I got up this morning…”

  “What?” Robinson inquired. “She … passed on?”

  Sam nodded. “I couldn’t find a pulse no more. I looked and looked, but I couldn’t find one. She must have died sometime during the night. I figure the cancer finally beat her.”

  “She had cancer?”

  “Yup, doctor said she had a tumor in her brain ‘bout the size of a golf ball … had shown us pictures of it. He had given her three months to live. Course that was almost a year ago now.”

  “So you’re saying your wife never woke up from the coma?” I asked.

  “No, never did. Why, have others woke up?”

  “Yeah, most,” I replied.

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “No, not really. They wake from the coma but they’re not the same. They’re still sick.”

  Sam grunted. “That’s too bad then. And I was thinking of going into town again.”

  “I wouldn’t if you can help it,” Robinson said. “Not for a while anyway.”

  Bowser tugged at Robinson’s sleeve from behind. “Let’s go,” he said again.

  “He’s right,” Ted said. “We probably should get going. We can find some gas elsewhere.”

  “Why? We’ve got gas here,” Aamod said.

  Everyone turned and looked back at Aamod, but it was Sam who was the first to respond.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  “I said we’ve got gas here,” Aamod said again. He used the shotgun to point at Sam’s truck. “Why should we not just take it?”

  “Are you serious?” Robinson asked.

  Naima began to interject, but Aamod cut her off with lightning fast precision. He had nineteen years of practice.

  “We need gas,” Aamod went on. “He has it. Why shouldn’t we just take it?”

  “Because it’s not right,” Robinson said.

  “Doesn’t matter what’s right anymore. There is one of him and many of us. We have guns. He has a shovel. That is the way of the world now.”

  “Is that so?” Sam said.

  “It is.”

  “Enough!” Robinson shouted. “We’re not gonna rob him. We’ll get the gas from somewhere else.”

  Aamod scoffed and shook his head angrily.

  “But we are gonna need our stuff back,” Ted said, pointing at the gas can and plastic tubing. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, so you can rob someone else.”

  “We’ll make sure nobody is home next time,” Robinson said. “I promise.”

  “Don’t make stealing right,” Sam said. “If nobody’s home.”

  “It’s a lot worse out there than you realize,” I said. “Take that trip into town … you’ll see.”

  “I suppose I will.”

  Ted slowly walked up and retrieved the items next to the truck. Then we started for the cars, ready to get back on the road.

  Sam was a nice man, but he’d never understand where we were coming from. He hadn’t seen what we’d seen. He was living outside of reality, unaware of the mass awakening of infected. As Aamod had so subtlety pointed out, the rules had changed. And while that didn’t mean it was okay for us to rob him, I don’t think I would have felt too bad if we had. Since, given his disconnect from the world’s current condition, Sam would surely be dead soon anyway.

  But he wasn’t out of our lives just yet.

  “Got some gas in the shed out back,” Sam said. “It’s yours if you could give me a hand with my wife. My back ain’t what it used to be since I got into my seventies.”

  “What do you mean … give you a hand?” Robinson asked.

  “Diggin’ the grave.”

  “So that’s what the shovel is for,” I said.

  Sam nodded. “For Edith. I still gotta bury her.”

  “How much gas you got in the shed?” Ted asked.

  “Few barrels full.”

  We all exchanged glances, waiting for someone to express any objections. When no one did, Robinson nodded and said, “Okay. We’ll help you.”

  “Fools,” I heard Aamod whisper under his breath.

  But his objection was too late.

  Sam led Ted and Robinson over to the shed to show them the drums of oil. Then he handed them both a shovel, and the three of them went to work digging a grave on the side of the house, under the shade of a few tall trees. Bowser stood nearby, jumping in to take over when Sam got tired. Aamod wanted no part in helping, so he stayed out front by the cars. With Sam’s permission, Naima went into the house to go number two.

  Peaches and I strolled along the exterior of the property. She held Olivia while I walked Jax on a leash.

  “Poor guy,” Peaches said. “He has no idea what’s going on.”

  “Nope, and he’ll most likely find out the hard way.”

  “I feel bad about his wife though.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird that she didn’t wake up.”

  “She had cancer.”

  “I know. That’s probably why. Her body was too weak of a host. Still, makes you wonder.”

  Peaches stopped walking. “Makes you wonder what?”

  Jax didn’t want to stop. He wanted to keep exploring the property, take in every last scent. “If she’ll stay dead,” I replied.

  “But she didn’t wake up. You just said she was probably too weak of a host.”

  “That was then, when she was still alive. She obviously contracted the virus initially. Just because she died in the coma doesn’t mean the virus won’t still mutate.”

  “How many hours has she been dead?”

  We started walking again, making our way back closer to the house. “Sam said she died sometime during the night.” I checked my watch. “It’s almost one in the afternoon. So it’s been at least six hours. Maybe as many as twelve or thirteen. If she’s gonna come back, should be soon.”

  “Where do they have her body anyway?” Peaches asked.

  Right then we heard the porch door slam, and Naima came running out of the house, hands over her face, looking upset. Robinson stopped shoveling dirt and asked her what was wrong, but she ignored him and quickly headed for the front of the house.

  “I’ll go see what’s up with her,” Peaches said, and hurried off.

  Jax and I walked up on Robinson, Ted, and Bowser continuing to dig and earn us some gas. Sam was standing back overseeing the operation. A fairly large mound of dirt sat beside them, though the hole itself wasn’t more than a few feet deep.

  “Looks shallow,” I said.

  Robinson looked up at me. “No shit.”

  “It’s not as easy as it looks,” Ted said, stopping to rest for a moment.

  “I don’t know how far I would have gotten by myself,” Sam said. “I sure appreciate the help.”

  “And we’ll sure appreciate the gas,” Bowser replied.

  Robinson held out the shovel to me. “You wanna jump in?”

  “I gotta hold Jax.”

  “I’ll take him,” Robinson said, pulling the leash from my hand and replacing it with the shovel. “Have at it.”

  I helped dig another foot before we all stopped to rest again.

  “Only three more feet to go, Jimmy,” Robinson said, sitting under a tree with Jax.

  “That’s not even gonna happen,” Bowser said.

  I nodded. “I’m with him.”

  The sky overhead agreed, as we suddenly heard the rolling grumble of thunder.

  “Looks like we might be gettin’ some afternoon showers,” Sam said, peering up at the dark clouds off to the west. “It’s movin’ in fast.”

  “That’s not surprising. It’s Florida.” Robinson got up and walked over to the grave. “This’ll have to do.”

  “Yessiree, it’ll do just fine,” Sam concurred. “We better hurry though. I’ll go and
start gettin’ her ready.”

  Sam went inside the house.

  Robinson continued staring down into the hole. “Three feet will be fine, right?”

  Bowser and Ted both shrugged, indicating they really didn’t care one way or another. Robinson looked over at me.

  I still needed to tell him what happened to the dead bodies in the road back near Ted’s house—how they’d gotten up and walked away. I needed to tell him about the little girl in the woods, and Nicole. He needed to know. Everyone needed to know. But it could wait until we left this place, which given the approaching rainclouds, I had hoped would be soon. What happened after we were gone—whether or not the old lady we buried in the shallow grave would eventually rise again—well, that would be Sam’s problem.

  “Three feet sounds good to me,” I finally said.

  Ten minutes later, Bowser and Ted carried the old lady out of the house and gently laid her down in the grave. Thankfully, someone had closed her eyes, though it was still difficult to look directly at her pale blue face without feeling ill. I had seen dozens upon dozens upon dozens of dead bodies in the last few days alone, and the sight still wasn’t getting any easier to view. This one, this old woman, might have been the worst yet, as she reminded me a lot of my grandma. I envied Sam. He at least got to bury his wife. My grandma just disappeared into the early morning fog, a ghostly memory of her former self, and literally walked out of my life. Wherever she was, alive or dead, I hoped she was at peace. And I hoped someday I’d be able to find my own.

  I stood back as Sam said a few parting words. Peaches quietly came up beside me.

  “Where is Naima?” I whispered.

  “Still out front with her father.”

  “Did you find out what was wrong?”

  “Yeah, I guess she saw the body inside the house.”

  “That’s it?”

  Peaches shrugged. “I think it surprised her, ya know. She was just expecting to go in and use the bathroom. You know how sensitive she is.”

  “She’s gonna have to toughen up,” I said. “Things aren’t gonna get any easier.”

  “I don’t think I’d ever want to reach a point where a dead body wouldn’t freak me out a little.”

  “That’s not what I mean. She’s gonna die if she doesn’t learn to defend herself. Her father might not always be there to protect her. And given how unstable he’s become, I’d say that day will come sooner rather than later. None of us want to kill anything. But I don’t want to die, and I don’t think she does either. I’ve tried to explain this to her before, but I’m not sure how much got through.”

  “I’ll try and talk with her when we get a moment,” Peaches said. “Maybe she just needs to hear it from another woman.”

  Lightning flickered in the distance, followed by the sound of thunder a few seconds later. Sam seemed to get the message and wrapped up his eulogy. Then he grabbed a shovel and began filling the dirt back into the hole, slowly covering his wife. Robinson and Bowser jumped in to help once Sam gave the okay.

  By the time they had the dirt filled in and the ground leveled off, it started to rain. Sprinkling at first, and then pouring down in buckets. We all took shelter on Sam’s back porch.

  “Y’all are welcome to hang out until the storm passes,” Sam said.

  “Don’t think we have much of a choice,” Robinson replied. “Unless you want to run out there to the shed and get our gas.”

  Sam looked at the shed thirty yards out getting pelted by the rain. The door was left open. “I’d rather not.”

  “Then I guess we’ll stay.”

  The back door opened and Aamod stepped out. For once, he didn’t have the shotgun in his hands. Naima stood behind him in the doorway, quiet and obedient as ever.

  “When are we leaving?” Aamod asked.

  “When it stops raining,” Robinson replied.

  Aamod said nothing and went back inside. The rest of us watched the lightning for a few minutes longer, until it got too close for comfort, and then we went into the house as well.

  Sam’s house was small but well lived in. It smelled of dust, and a quick glance around revealed thick coats of it to be on just about everything. The living room contained more furniture than it could comfortably hold, most with designs straight out of the 1970’s. All sorts of little knick knacks sat behind glass cabinets and atop wooden shelves. Everything from snow globes and small animals carved out of ivory, to an extensive collection of lifelike figurines numbering in the hundreds. Sam and his wife had amassed a ton of tiny treasures during their time together, and proudly showcased them.

  “I got food in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” Sam said.

  Food in the kitchen? As opposed to having food in the bathroom, which would be unsanitary. Particularly since Naima had just fired off a missile in there.

  While most of the others followed Sam into the kitchen, I pulled Robinson into one of the spare bedrooms and gave him the talk. No, not about sex—of which I still knew very little—about the living dead. Even though we were in another room, I kept my voice down. The last thing I wanted was Sam to overhear our conversation.

  I had originally planned on telling him once we were back on the road, but the rain had swooped in and locked us down, with no sign as to when it would let us free. And the more I thought about it, the more I started to worry. What if Sam’s wife came back from the dead while we were here? How would Sam react? How would Robinson react? It was easy to imagine him making the mistake of getting too close, believing he’s immune, not realizing one bite from her would mean certain death. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I couldn’t go one moment longer withholding information that would be vital to our survival as individuals, and as a group. He needed to know. So I told him about the bodies in the road. I told him about Nicole’s husband in the shed. About the little girl in the woods, who despite missing half a leg, managed to drag herself across the ground and latch on to Nicole’s leg with her teeth. I told him how Nicole had come back as a rotting, pale faced, hazy-eyed, foul smelling zombie.

  And what did Robinson do?

  He laughed at me.

  “You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m just making this up?”

  “Maybe you’re trying to get one over on me,” he said.

  Now it was me who started laughing. “I swear I’m not. It’s all true.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” I said. “With all that’s happened, why is that so hard to believe?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there is something to what you’re saying. But it just sounds crazy. I can accept a virus getting into people’s minds, making them different. Changing them. Sure. But the dead coming back to life? … zombies? ... that’s just ridiculous.”

  “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

  “I don’t doubt you believe that. But I guess I’d have to see it with my eyes before I could believe it. Sorry, Jimmy.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  Yes. Sorry me.

  We rejoined the others in the living room, already engaged in conversation. Sam told us all about his wife Edith, about all the trophies she’d won riding horses, about her time spent helping out at the local animal shelter. Then we got to hear about the forty years Sam spent working on the railroad. The sound of the wind and rain outside, as well as Sam’s super interesting stories, were beginning to put me to sleep.

  I went into the kitchen and got a glass of water. Then I stood at the sink and stared out a window at the side yard. The rain was still coming down hard, accompanied by an occasional flash of lightning. Big gusts of wind swept through the trees, ripping off a few small branches. Between the house and the trees lay old Edith herself, three feet under, her final resting place pounded by fresh water, turning the dirt we’d dug to mud. But would it really be her final resting place? I was conflicted. A part of me hoped not, just so I could prove to Robinson I wasn’t lying. While another part of me hoped she’d stay in the ground, for Sam’s sake.
My gut told me she wasn’t coming back—that Robinson would have to find out the truth another time.

  Out in the living room, I could hear the group explaining to Sam why we were going to New Orleans. I refilled my glass of water and was about to go back into the living room, when something caught my eye. I inched closer to the kitchen window above the sink, adjusted my glasses. Ice cold chills suddenly ran all down my body.

  I saw a hand.

  A hand coming out of the wet soil.

  A hand coming out of the wet soil right where we had buried Edith.

  Ever so slowly an arm sprouted from the ground and twisted upward like a fast growing plant. Then a second arm appeared, slipping through the surface. Together they flailed, clawing at the ground, frantically trying to push the dirt and mud away.

  Here was the proof Robinson needed, happening right before my eyes. Edith, who an hour ago was as dead as Lindsay Lohan’s brain cells, was alive. If by instinct, my hand slipped down and fell upon Sally by my side.

  “Oh, Robinson,” I hollered.

  “Yeah,” he yelled back from the other room.

  “Could you come in here for a moment?”

  A moment later, Robinson came up and stood beside me. I didn’t have to tell him what I called him for. He followed my gaze, gradually leaning closer to the window, his jaw slowly falling open in shock.

  “I-I don’t understand,” Robinson finally said. “But … she was dead.”

  “She still is,” I said. “Well, sort of.”

  Neither one of us could take our eyes off the miracle of birth happening just outside the window. The rain poured down, washing the mud away from the old dead woman as she climbed from the grave, refreshed, renewed, and ready for her new lease on life. It’s a shame it wouldn’t last long.

  Robinson sighed. “What the hell is going on?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? She’s alive.

  Alive!

  However, the real question was which one of us was gonna sneak outside in the rain and take care of her before Sam found out?

  “What’re you lookin’ at?” a voice said from behind us.

  It was Sam, of course.

  Robinson and I turned to look at each other, and through the flicker and flash of lightning, I saw the slightest hint of a smile creep on to his face. Not that anything was funny, certainly not the thought of Sam seeing his wife stumbling around the yard, zombified. Okay, maybe that was a little funny. But the smile was Robinson’s way of saying, without words, you told me so.