“Checking the pumps to see if maybe they had any power. They don’t.” Lucas braces himself against the vehicle’s frame. He slams the palms of his hands against the edge.
Cassie points in the direction of the other gas station across from us. “Maybe the Shell station across the road will have some fuel.”
Lucas steps back from the Humvee. He twists his head in the direction of the other gas station. There aren’t many vehicles close by, and the ones that are aren’t the type we need to bother with. A couple of sedans are parked in front of the store with another parked off to the left of the structure. I don’t know about fuel types, but know enough to figure out they aren’t what we are after.
My gaze ventures further out beyond the parking lot and across the street. I’m trying to remain hopeful, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that life was going out of its way to make sure I don’t reach Cindy. At times, life can be just as vicious and cruel as the chasers, or people for that matter.
Lost in indecision, and what thin shred of hope is lingering inside me, I spot what appears to be another vehicle across the street. It doesn’t look like a car, though. It’s much wider and larger than the ones close by.
“Hey, what about that over there?” I call out. “Across the street between that large and small building.”
Lucas turns back toward the cab and stares at me. He pivots on his heel and follows my finger that is pointing out of the windshield. He takes a couple of steps back to clear the opened door obstructing his view. “Can’t tell for sure, but it looks like a truck from here. Possibly a Dully. Those are known to run off of diesel.”
“Do we drive over there and check it out?” Cassie inquires?
Lucas shakes his head. “I’d rather not. I don’t want to start it up again until we’re ready to leave. Don’t know who or what might be close by. The noise of the engine going again could attract some unwanted attention. Best to try and remain as quite as possible. Besides, it isn’t that far. Shouldn’t take too long.”
“All right. Let’s hurry up and do this,” I say. I crack open my door.
Lucas speaks up. “James, probably best you-”
“Nope. Not this time.” I already know what he’s going to say. “I’m coming with you on this one. If it’s what we’re looking for, then you’ll need someone covering your back. We need that fuel.”
Lucas shifts his gaze from me to Cassie who’s sitting next to Duke. “I’ll wait here and keep a look out. If I spot anyone, or anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Keep Duke with you,” I say while glancing in the back at him.
Mentioning his name sends his ears erect and his body at attention.
Cassie rubs his back for a second before giving him a gentle pat on the side. “Take him with you. I imagine he doesn’t want to be cooped up in here anymore. It will give him a chance to stretch his legs again before we get back on the road. Besides, he’ll be an extra set of eyes and ears for you in case any chasers try to sneak up on you.”
Lucas points to the automatic rifles that are fastened to the dash near me. “Hand me that rifle, James, will ya?”
I reach down, and unstrap the rifle from the dash. I lift the weapon up, and hand it over to Lucas. He grabs the barrel and brings it in. He ejects the magazine, and skims over the interior, then slips it back into the well and secures it in place by slapping the bottom with his palm.
“Make sure to grab your flashlight, and bring it with you,” Lucas says.
“Got it right here.” I hold my hand up in the air, showing the light clutched in the same hand as my machete.
“You sure you’re good here alone?” Lucas diverts his gaze over to Cassie one last time.
Cassie leans forward and retrieves the pistol from behind her. She sets it in her lap and offers a single nod. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’d feel safer in here right now than out there.”
“Yeah. She’ll be fine. She’s a badass with that pistol. I wouldn’t mess with her.” I wink at Cassie.
She offers a half smile in return.
Lucas steps away from the driver’s side and slams the door. I push the passenger side door open and drop down onto the cement. Man, these vehicles are high off the ground. Makes me feel like a little kid trying to get in and out of this thing.
Cassie swings open the door next to her, allowing Duke to spring over her waist. He lands on the ground and spins around in circles. Wish I was that spry. He always acts like he’s got so much energy that if he doesn’t expend it, he’ll explode. It would be nice if I could syphon some of that off of him.
“All right, dude, settle down,” I say. He trots up to me and licks my fingers before darting back to the rear of the Humvee. I turn my attention to Cassie. “We won’t be too long.”
“Be safe, and watch your backs.” Cassie brings her door to, filling the interior of the Humvee with blackness.
I turn on my flashlight, and make my way to the rear of the armored transport.
Lucas stands there with both gas cans clutched in his hands. The rifle is slung over his left shoulder. “We do this quickly. We take what fuel we can then we get the hell out of here.”
I nod in agreement. “I don’t want to be here any longer than we need to be.”
“Come on. Let’s go.”
We move around the steel column and out into the next stall. Our pace is brisk as we dart across the parking lot. My flashlight sweeps the area from right to left in search of any chasers who might be lurking about. Duke stays glued to my side.
The front end of the large, maroon truck is smashed into the side of a tiny beige house, a chain link fence wrapped up under its chassis.
We slow our pace, approaching with caution. The yellowish tinted beam washes over the bullet-ridden body of the truck. The driver’s side door hangs open, the window busted out. Fragments of glass rim the edge like sharp, jagged teeth.
“I think it’s safe to assume that chasers didn’t shoot this truck up,” I observe.
“Yeah. Hopefully, whoever did this is long gone.” Lucas cranes his neck and searches the area for any threats. None can be seen.
Duke cautiously advances, his nose trained to the ground. He pauses and lifts his front right leg, investigating the scene. I shine the light toward the cab, and walk up behind him. My fingers grip the handle of the machete a bit tighter as I exhale a breath of air. Glass crunches under my boots.
The truck is empty. Dried blood has stained the light gray fabric seats. Speckles of the poor soul’s blood coats the large, black dash. I step closer to the door, and rise up on my tippy toes in search of a body. There is none. I crane my neck, and move the light to the back seat. It’s stuffed with luggage and boxes. Whoever it was could’ve gotten away. Or not.
“James, come here, and give me some light, will ya?” Lucas asks from the opposite side of the truck.
I back away from the cab, and move toward the rear. I hang a left, and continue on past the tailgate to the passenger side. I shine the light over Lucas, who is down on one knee. He unscrews the caps of the gas cans, and sets them side by side before standing up. Clutched in his hand is a long rubber hose. He reaches for the truck’s gas cap.
“Is it diesel?” I inquire, hoping the answer will be yes. I tilt the flashlight toward the truck as Lucas leans in closer.
“Looks like it is.” He points to the cap that is secured in place on the truck. It has diesel written around the outer portion.
Lucas twists the yellow cap free, and lets it dangle from its black rubber band. “Now, just got to hope that the tank is fairly full. These vehicles can hold up to forty-eight gallons of fuel. It will be more than enough to fill both of these up and then some.”
Lucas works one end of the rubber hose down into the truck’s gas tank. He feeds it in, pushing it farther inside until he feels it’s in far enough.
“Glad this is an older model truck. The newer ones are a lot harder to syphon fuel from.”
I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anyone do this in real life before. Dad has told me how it’s done, but has never done any hands-on training. I can say I’m glad about that. The smell of gas is my least favorite thing to inhale, and considering you might suck in a mouthful of the fuel, that doesn’t really get me all that excited to jump in and do it. Plus, Dad always warned that ingesting the fuel could kill you. All things considered, if I had to, I would do it. I’m just glad Lucas is taking point on it.
Lucas places the other end into his mouth. He sucks on the hose for a few moments before he quickly pulls it out. Fuel starts to pour from the end as he places it down into the gas can closest to me.
Lucas contorts his face. He tilts his head to the left and spits what I can only imagine is the remnants of the diesel lingering in his mouth.
“Tasty?” I snidely remark.
“Better than coffee, I’d say.” Lucas spits a few more times and runs the sleeve of his coat over his mouth. “Watch that, will ya?”
He turns about and walks toward the back passenger side door. He grabs the handle and opens it. He leans in and rummages through the belongings of the person or people the vehicle belonged to.
I turn, and rest my back against the body of the truck. I look to my right at the motel. The parking lot is mostly vacant of cars. The windows that litter the portion facing me are all black, and void of any hint that people are residing within its brick walls. There could be chasers ambling up and down the halls, lost in a cathartic state due to not being stimulated by any noises that may bring a hope of a meal.
One thing that I have grown leery of since the world plummeted into madness, and started to eat itself, is the deafening silence. It’s really a two-edged sword, seeing how silence is the only way to avoid the chasers and even the non-infected. Still, the lack of any sound or stimulus causes my mind to drift and wander in the no man lands of despair and grief. I hope one day I can enjoy the sound of silence once more, and not be terrified of what lingers there.
I glance down to the gas can, and check to see how it’s coming. The light plays over the top, but I can’t tell how full it is from where I am. I drop to one knee and hone the beam over the opening. Duke rests on his hind legs next to me. I wrap my arm over him, and give a tight squeeze.
The smell of fuel penetrates my nose, causing it to crinkle in disgust. I move my head every which way to try and gauge how much fuel has filled the container. I grab the handle, and tilt it slightly toward me. It sloshes about, indicating that it’s well on its way.
“It’s not going super-fast but it’s still coming out,” I inform. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to get enough to fill the tank up.” I tilt the light toward the cab. Lucas is still leaned over, sifting through the belongings. Not sure if he heard me or not since he hasn’t responded. “Did you hear what I said, or are you just ignoring me?”
He pauses. No movement. He stands motionless like a statue for a moment before pulling free of the cab. He has something clutched in his hands. I think it’s a photo. He deflates back against the door, and just stares at the picture in his hand.
“Yeah. Sorry. What were you saying again?” Lucas is acting extremely strange now. His stern and focused posture has nearly evaporated. His shoulders slump forward like they’re weighted down with boulders. His eyes grow glassy with tears. He has that all too familiar defeated look.
“What’s wrong?” Concern swells inside me as I keep the light focused on his distraught face. He turns his attention back to the cab. He runs the heels of his palms under each eye to erase the tears that are racing down his cheeks. “Nothing. Just looking at this photo of this family and the kid clothes brought back some memories. I’m fine.”
Lucas discards the photo back into the cab of the truck with a flick of his wrist. He shakes off the burdensome misery that is obviously taking its toll on him.
I go to ask another question, but refrain from doing so. I’ve never been good with feelings and talking about them in a productive way. My behavior as of late is a testament to how I have been cooping with such disheartening matters. Besides, this isn’t really the best time or place for us to get lured into a vulnerable state.
He slams the door and brushes his hand up and down his face. He comes back over to us, and inspects the gas cans.
“This is a good sign. It appears as though the tank was pretty full. Hopefully, we’ll be able to tap enough to get both of these full and add some more to the Humvee.”
I nod.
A part of me is envious of how Lucas can switch off those emotional feelings like a light switch. But a few moments ago, he was nothing more than a grieving, broken man who had been pulled back into the past. A moment that surely weighed heavy on him. I imagine the turmoil lingering inside of his soul is similar to what we are all facing now.
Towing the edge of our own survival, the pain of loss never gets any easier. You either allow it to consume you until you’re nothing more than a hollow shell that is void of any soul, or you rise up, and handle it as Lucas apparently has.
Perhaps it’s my age and immaturity that is hindering me from doing so. Regardless, I need to try harder to bear this burden of guilt, and move on. Release the anchor that is tightly fitted around my ankles. It’s not only for my sake, but for Cindy’s as well.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We stand there, huddled around the fuel cans without saying so much as a word. I’m not sure if Lucas is feeling a bit out of sorts from his moment of being sucked into the past or not. He avoids eye contact with me. He probably doesn’t want to dive into his feelings any more than I want to go into mine. We all deal with our demons in different ways. Perhaps when things calm down and when we have the time, I’ll probe deeper. Then again, it may never be the right time.
Lucas grabs the container and pulls it toward him slightly. I shine the light at the top as he narrows his eyes at the interior.
“That should be good on that one. We’ll go ahead and start filling up the other one now.”
He pinches the hose, and quickly moves the end to the other empty gas can. A bit of diesel spews out over the grass and cans during the exchange. I place my arm over my nose to avoid breathing in the fumes.
“You all right?”
I take a second before removing my arm from my face. “Yeah. Not a fan of how this stuff smells. Gives me a headache at times.”
“I can handle this, James, if you want to go back to the Humvee. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
I dismiss the thought with a shake of my head.
“No. I’m good.”
A branch snaps to my right on the other side of the tiny house we are huddled up next to. Our heads are drawn to the noise. Lucas places his finger over his mouth quickly.
Duke starts to growl. I pull him close to me and whisper in his ear to calm down. His head remains trained toward the other side of the structure. His ears are on end. His body grows stiff as his muscles prepare to engage whatever threat may linger within the darkness.
Lucas calmly removes the rifle slung over his left arm. He shoulders the weapon and slowly stands up. He motions with his hand for us to stay put. Crouched slightly, Lucas moves cautiously toward the forbidding disturbance.
The machete remains tight in my grasp. At times, it feels as though it’s been permanently fixed to my hand. Although I miss having my rifle, more for sentimental reasons, having this blade has proved to be a much more valuable asset in the apocalypse.
It doesn’t run the risk of jamming or malfunctioning in any sort of way. But most importantly, there is no ammunition that I have to worry about running out of.
I focus the flashlight’s beam at the ground where Lucas is stepping. He presses his left shoulder against the beige wood facade of the house and slithers down to the corner. He pauses just shy of the darkness hovering beyond the edge. It’s only a second or two, nothing more before he peers out into the dimness.
The barrel of the rifle sweeps from left to right carefully,
methodically, as he pushes on into the cloak of night. He vanishes from my sight. The strange sounds have all but ceased, which causes a flood of concern to swirl in my gut, and my mind to race.
Is it a chaser ambling about in the dead of night in search of something to satiate its hunger, or could it be nothing more than a wild animal passing through? I’m hoping for the latter.
Duke continues to try and pull away from me. I carry on with speaking softly in his ear to try and stay his antsiness. Mine as well.
Indecision floods me. I’m not one to stay on the sidelines anymore, waiting for trouble to find me. I either flee, or face it head on. Here lately, I’ve been doing more of the latter. Probably not the smartest of decisions, but it is what it is. The only thing now that scares me more than the chasers, is losing the people who are closest to me. That frightens me beyond all belief.
Screw this.
I stand up from my crouched position and remove my arm from around Duke’s neck. Lucas may get upset with me for not staying put, but he’ll have to deal with it.
One cautious boot in front of the other, I work my way toward the edge of the tiny house. Duke stays by my side. I wait a moment, and listen before allowing him to move.
“Go ahead, boy,” I softly whisper.
He quietly moves into the darkness, vanishing from sight. I toe the corner of the house briefly with the flashlight’s beam trained toward the ground. A solid breath in and out, and I’m ready to move on. I start to advance when I feel something round and solid press between the mid part of my upper back.
I freeze.
A chaser has gotten the drop on me. It has me dead to rights. As I stand there, I wait for the creature to do its worst. Oddly enough, it doesn’t. It offers no movements or grunts that tickle my ear. My mind races as I try to connect the dots and focus on what it is that is jammed into my spine. Hold on. It feels like a weapon. Perhaps a rifle. The creatures don’t carry weapons.
My instincts take over, and urge me to spin around on the heels of my boots and engage whatever is behind me. I move slightly, and the barrel of his rifle presses harder into my back.
Dead State (Book 3): Executioner Page 9
