In the distance a woman crawled out the driver’s side window of a green car at least fifty feet ahead in the drainage ditch. She waved her arms furiously for him to stop. She climbed the grassy slope to stand near the edge of the pavement. The bull was attempting to crawl using its front legs to pull its mangled rear half. Sam was amazed it was still alive. A blood trail showed it dragged itself from the middle of the right lane onto the far shoulder. Sam turned the emergency flashers on and stopped in his lane but halfway on the shoulder. The ghostly female form stood in front of his hood as he got out. His first move was to walk back to the bull and shoot it with his handgun to end its misery. The woman didn’t flinch or protest at the gun’s crack.
She approached slowly. Covered in white powder she looked like a ghost appearing out of a horror film. He briefly thought the look was appropriate with the zombie influx. “Can you give me a lift? I think my car’s totaled.”
“Sure, I’ll hel—"
They both turned toward rustling noises near her car. There was movement in the weeds and brush on the other side of the car where several barbed wire strands ran along the top of a rise. Then they clearly heard the guttural moans of several zombies in the still night. JR stood petrified. She’d seen firsthand what they could do to a living being, and she was poised to run.
Sam yelled as he gave the young woman a gentle shove while pulling his handgun. “Lady, if you need anything from your car, get it now, hurry damnit, move,” He fired at two undead struggling in the barbed wire above the dark green two-door Chevy Malibu. Dim moonlight made him miss the first shots at each zombie. He told himself to remain calm, took a deep breath, aimed and fired again but slightly higher. JR snapped out of her doldrums and scurried through tall grass down the embankment toward the zombies. She dove headfirst inside the car far enough to grab the three bags and drag them toward her. Sam kept an eye on the woman while making a slow pirouette to check the ebony night for unseen danger. JR clutched her bags tight and scurried slipping and sliding up the embankment. She was terrified of being attacked and transformed into a zombie like her family. When she reached the passenger door, Sam stood on the truck’s doorsill and flipped the door locks. The stranger yanked the door open and tossed her bags in the passenger side of the truck. Sam shot two more zombies that had breached the barbwire. Four undead were down when Sam closed the door and hastily pulled away as several more zombies appeared at the edge of his headlight beams. He suspected they had been farmers caught unaware of the danger; one husky, older form wore bib overalls and a blue baseball cap. That man even showed a farmer’s tan up to his tattered short sleeved shirt.
JR felt disconnected. Things were happening too fast and putting her mind in overload. Nothing was left of her life but three bags of miscellaneous stuff at her feet.
“What’s your name miss, and where are you headed?”
“JR Johns . . . I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t have anybody to go to. My family was killed by zombies this afternoon in Lawton. I don’t know what to do . . . where are you going?”
“Canada . . . do you have money with you?”
“A little, not much, maybe fifty at most. There’s a little room left on a credit card, but not over four or five hundred dollars or so.” She stiffened. “Why do you need to know how much money I have? Are you going to try to take it?”
“Your family is dead, and you don’t have anywhere to go. If you want, you can go to the Canadian border. With me. But you’ll need to help pay expenses. Soon paper money will be useless and credit companies will be shutting down their cards, if they haven’t already. We’ll maximize the amounts on all our credit cards first, then try to spend the paper money before people refuse to take it.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You really think that will happen? This is America. That can’t happen here. Surely this is temporary.” She sat against the door staring at him fearfully. “I guess next you’ll want sex from me for a ride clear to the border.”
Sam stared at her harshly. “Boy! You sure have a mouth on you. No. I’m not trading a ride for sex.” Sam chuckled dryly, “of course, when you see what a stud I am, you might change your mind and beg me to take you . . . what should I call you?”
“Like hell I’ll beg. I’m JR.
“Nice to meet you JR, I’m Sam. We’re nearing Gotebo, I need to stop there a few minutes at a man’s house and see if he’s home.”
JR turned to him fearfully. “Why, what’s there? What are you going to do? Is he going with us?”
“Calm yourself, he’s a gun dealer. If you’re going as far as the border with me, I need to buy a few more guns. Can you shoot? If not, I’ll teach you. You’ll have to pull your own weight and share the responsibility and work.”
“I can shoot, my dad taught me. And I’m pretty good. Won a few trophies in tournaments at a local gun club.” JR was fearful. She didn’t know this man enough to trust him. But with a choice of him or the zombies outside, she accepted he was her only option. But that could change in the next few hours or days.
“What kind of handgun did you learn on?”
“A revolver, Smith and Wesson .38 caliber.”
“You’ll need a thigh holster, and you can put one of my .40 caliber Glocks in it. I’ll give it to you without a loaded magazine. Glocks don’t have a safety switch. They’re to be carried hot with a bullet in the chamber ready to fire. Get used to handling it without touching the trigger, or you’ll shoot yourself trying to pull it from the holster. When you’re comfortable with it, you can insert a loaded magazine.”
“Like Barney Fife being allowed one bullet but only in his shirt pocket, huh?”
Sam grinned smugly. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.”
JR giggled and relaxed. A little.
At Marbry’s house, Rick and his wife and two teenagers were hurriedly packing belongings into what looked like a thirty foot long travel trailer behind a three-quarter ton Chevy pickup. JR was relieved when she saw the wife and two teenaged girls. The girls appeared to be about fifteen and seventeen years old. Each of them was armed with a handgun in a belt holster. Outdoor spotlights on the house and garage kept the darkness at bay as Sam & JR exited the truck.
Rick stopped carrying boxes. “Sam, what do you need? You’ll have to be quick; we’re almost ready to leave. Another hour and you would have missed me.”
“I want another M21 sniper rifle, a .22 caliber semiauto rifle and another .40 caliber Glock and more ammo for all those.”
“Let’s go to the basement and see what’s left. I’ve been busy the last few days; I sold a ton of stuff. Guess you heard about the zombies in Lawton today?”
“Yeah, I’ve already shot seven since noon. They’re close by here now, so we’re heading north. You need to be on the road in the next hour or be ready to defend yourselves.” As an afterthought, he added, “I suppose you know only a head shot to the brain will stop a zombie; don’t waste your time and ammo on center mass shots.”
They entered the garage and started down the stairs to the basement as Rick said over his shoulder, “Yes, I heard that earlier today from a customer who learned it the hard way. A zombie attacked his wife. Then he had to shoot both of them. I passed that on to several customers earlier as well as my family too. Jean and the girls are excellent shots and are capable of brain shots if they can stay calm and not get overly excited. We’ll be ready to leave as soon as my they load the last refrigerated and frozen food stuff in coolers. They went grocery shopping twice today and stocked up heavily for our trip.”
In the basement gun shop area, Rick checked his inventory, then said, “The last M21 went out today. How about a straight M14? It takes the same ammo as the M21s. It’s been inspected just like the 21s and it’s accurate; it’s got a good quality scope on it too.’ He turned to the handgun display case. “Also, I’ve only got one Glock left. It’s a G 41 .45 caliber. I have .40 caliber in other brands though. But the .22 rifle is no problem.”
“I�
��ll stick with the Glock in .45 caliber.”
Sam picked up the M14 with a swing away scope. “Okay I’ll take those and two cases of hollow point ammo for each, even in the .22 cal. if you have it.”
“I may have the ammo; most people settle for the full metal jacketed because it’s half the price. I wish I’d had more customers like you who know what they want and are willing to pay for it.”
JR was shouldering a semiauto shotgun. Sam said, “What do you have there?”
JR turned to him. “A Winchester 20 gauge. It fits me good.”
Rick was putting the rifles in soft cases. Sam said loudly, “Rick, I’ll take the 20 gauge shotgun and a case each of slugs, .00 buckshot and number 4 shot, if you have those for it.”
“Ammo shouldn’t be a problem. I received three huge shipments during the past month. I’ll lose my ass on that when I have to leave it behind.”
While Rick gathered everything, Sam and JR picked out camo hats and winter gloves, vests, coats, 12 gauge Bandoliers, cleaning kits, and other assorted gear. Several dog chains hung on pegs, and Sam grabbed two.
As Rick wrote a receipt, Sam started counting currency.
Rick stopped him. “I don’t want dollars. I’ll take gold or anything else of equal value, but not paper money.”
Sam shrugged dejectedly. “Sorry to waste your time. Paper money is all I have. Let’s go JR. We’ll have to stop somewhere else along the way.”
They clomped halfway up the basement steps before Rick relented. “Shit, I can’t take any more of this with us anyway. I’ll have to leave what’s left when we pull out shortly. Thieves will get what’s left for free as soon as they know I’m gone. Give me the currency.” He looked up dejectedly from the paperwork. “Get rid of the paper money as quick as you can. I guarantee it’s soon going to be worthless.”
Sam nodded knowingly as he motioned to JR to be quiet. He’d pulled a bluff with Rick and didn’t want her to screw it up. He turned and stared quizzically at Rick. “ Would you happen to have any explosives on hand, like dynamite?”
“No. I don’t deal in explosives. They’re too dangerous. Wait! There are a few hand grenades. Would you want them? Do you know how to use a grenade?”
“Yeah. Charlie Wilcox told me about them. Pull the pin, throw fast and far, and duck low.”
“I’ve got a box of a half dozen or so, maybe eight of the old M2 pineapples. I got them in a large estate deal I bought last year. I’ve actually been wanting to be rid of them because it cost too much for a license to own them legally. Although, I guess that doesn’t matter now with laws and enforcement soon going to be a thing of the past.”
Rick helped lug the weapons and ammo cases to Sam’s trailer. He said good-bye, then turned and added, “Hope to see you in Canada or the Yukon.” He turned toward his wife as she said, “We’re packed and ready and the girls are strapped in. Lets hit the road before someone else stops.”
Rick said, “Let’s you and I make one more check to see if we missed anything.”
After loading three magazines with .45 ammunition, Sam slid the new gun into his holster.
Rick started his truck’s engine as Sam pulled away.
Sam held a smirk until they were back on the highway. His goal was to avoid US currency the same as Rick, and he’d won. Most people were going to be caught unawares that the paper currency they’d depended on their entire lives would soon be worthless scrap paper. Most people would focus on the immediate zombie threat and not spend enough time thinking about how life would be in the near future. Those people would have great difficulty accepting what the conditions of their lives would soon be. Elimination of currency was just one of the first major changes coming in their upheaval.
“Thank you,” he heard in a muted voice from JR.
“You’re welcome. You need reliable weapons if we’re going to tackle the undead together. Glocks have a reputation for reliability.”
“I understand the handguns, rifles and shotguns, but the hand grenades are pretty extreme. What are they for?”
“There’s not a reason for them I’m aware of, but it can’t hurt to have them along. I mainly anticipated getting rid of another $500 or so of currency.”
“How damned much money do you have if you want to just get rid of it?”
“Enough to get us a good way north of here and into Canada. Hopefully before people wake up and realize it’s worthless paper with no intrinsic value.”
“What do you mean worthless? How can that be?”
“Paper money has no value in itself. It’s backed by the country that issues it. Since our country is being decimated, its currency has no value. There’s nothing to guarantee its worth. There’s gold bullion stored in Fort Knox, but it’s not nearly enough to back all the paper that has been printed against it. And truthfully, I’d not be surprised if some of our crooked elected officials haven’t thought of a way to steal a large amount of that in the last several months.”
A vehicle behind them flashed its headlights as it pulled out to pass on a long straight away. As the blue truck pulling a trailer went by people on the passenger’s side waved.
Sam returned the greeting. “That was Rick’s family. I wish them good luck. They’re good people.”
JR asked, “What is your plan for tonight? It’s ten minutes after ten now. How long are you going to drive tonight?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. Until I’m tired, I suppose.” He changed the subject. “What’s your full name?”
“JR Johns.”
“No. I mean your given names. What does JR stand for?”
“That’s none of your business. Just JR.”
“Oh, come on. They can’t be that bad.”
“Yes, they are. I hate them.”
“That’s just one opinion. I might think they’re neat and like them.”
“I’ll tell you if you swear you’ll never repeat them. Promise?”
“Boy, these must be doozies. Okay, I promise to never repeat them.”
“You better mean it. Josephine, Rhiannon, Johns.”
“No wonder you’re ashamed of it. That’s a mouthful, girl.”
“Okay wiseass. What’s your full name.”
“It’s not as bad as yours, Josephine Rhiannon Johns.”
“Liar! You said you’d never repeat it and you just did. Asshole.” She threw a series of hard punches at his right shoulder.
He flinched as the truck wandered across the center line. “Damn, that hurt. Ease up girl or I’ll throw you out at the next town.”
“You wish.” JR slid across the seat to the door and pouted.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m Samuel Ilesh Boyle.”
“Samuel, what the fuck?”
“Ilesh. It’s Apache and means Lord of Earth.”
“Boy, and I thought my grandmothers hated me when they each got to pick my names. After me, my parents went back to picking their kid’s names like they did before I was born. I was the only unlucky one to get grand mothered.”
“I like Ilesh because it retains my Apache Native American heritage.”
“So you’re part Apache? My ancestors are Comanche and Welsh. Or Scottish. My grandmother on my dad’s side wasn’t exactly sure and told it both ways.”
Staring straight ahead, Sam said, “My mother died of ovarian cancer when I was fourteen. My dad died of lung cancer last year. He was a two pack a day smoker, plus, I think the welding fumes he breathed added to his fast spreading cancer. My great-grandfather Collin Boyle emigrated from Ireland. In his early years, he was a fur trapper further west until he settled down with a Native American wife.”
“Even at that, you’re somewhat lucky. You’ve had time to adjust to their deaths before all this shit happened. You even got to spend time with them knowing their end was coming.” Softly, as she shifted to lay her head against the door glass, she murmured, “Both my parents and my younger sister became zombies earlier today. The soldiers at the base probably put
them down. I have no idea what’s happened to my two older sisters. They’re away at college, LSU, and haven’t answered their phones. Plus, I don’t have a clue what’s happened to the rest of my family. No one answered their phones when I called as I ate supper. That’s scary when you’re used to almost instant access to someone. At least to the ones who have their phones turned on.” She grimaced as she fingered the sore area on her left temple.
“Yeah. Sorry. Most of my relatives left this area years ago during the thirties Dust Bowl years. The few who remained here are old; they’re either in nursing homes or barely hanging on. There’s no way they could survive this journey. Our family isn’t close, so their kids and grandkids eventually drifted away from my mom and dad’s side of the family.” Sam concentrated on driving in the dark and couldn’t think of anything to say to ease JR’s loss, or her pain.
JR sat pensively staring straight ahead. In the dim light from the dash she was attractive. Sam’s buried thoughts of Ari rose to the surface, then withered and faded back into their painful past. He thought he had put her behind him, but she occasionally appeared out of nowhere to cloud his thinking. He didn’t hate her but wished he could evict her from his mind permanently.
Near one thirty Sunday morning, they reached Sieling to take Rt. 278 west. JR woke when Sam pulled onto the parking lot at the Home and Farm Supply, stopped, and shut off the engine. “Hi, Sleepy Head. Here’s a key for the camper on the back. You can go back there and crawl in bed if you want. I’ll sleep here until the farm store opens in the morning. Then we’ll see what you need in the way of clothing. I watched closely and didn’t see any zombies lurking in the shadows when we pulled in. But be careful now and even more so when you come out in the morning. Be sure you check the whole area first before jumping out.” Still half asleep, she nodded, grabbed her bags, and exited the truck. He stepped from the truck to stretch and checked the area around them under the sparse flood lights along the perimeter of the parking lot. The camper door closed before he entered the cab again. Sam locked the doors, then leaned his seat back as far as it would go against items packed behind it. He kicked off his boots and fit his body to the confined space. After tossing for thirty minutes, he laid across the bench seat with his knees bent high and angled against the seatback.
Running To Escape: A Sam & JR Zombie Thriller Page 3
