Running To Escape: A Sam & JR Zombie Thriller

by Schobernd, Robert

  Sam was thoughtful for a time as JR waited impatiently. With unbridled anticipation she stole several glances at him. They’d been together long enough for her to know he was several inches taller than her, maybe a little over six foot, He was stocky; she judged he must weigh about 220 pounds. His squarish face bespoke of ruggedness, and his dark eyes complemented his short black hair. The Apache heritage provided his permanent pecan coloring, much like hers. Sam was an above average good looking male; but he certainly wasn’t a pretty boy like some actors the women fawned over. Since meeting him, she’d also been impressed with his calm, sensible decisions and attitude. She instinctively felt he could be trusted. By the time they’d make it across the border into Canada, she’d have a much better idea if her judgement of his character was accurate.

  “I guess, based on what happened in other parts of the world, there are two avenues open for survival against the undead. One is to band together in conclaves large enough to defend themselves against the zombies. That would entail a communal organization with officers making decisions for the group. I don’t relish that approach. My fear is some members would shirk their responsibility and drag the whole system down as has happened in the past. That’s what happened in . . . I think the sixteen hundreds, to the emigrants from England who landed on the East Coast at Plymouth. Half the indentured settlers laid back and depended on others to produce crops to last the group through the winter. During the next harsh winter many people became sick from lack of food or flat-out starved to death. I’m hesitant to let anyone else determine my fate. Also, a large group will attract rogue humans who will prey on weaker survivors and steal from them or kill the group if necessary.”

  JR’s attention was evident as she said, “That’s not a good thought, but I guess assholes now will be even worse if times get bad and there’s no justice system to corral and punish them. They would likely steal from others rather than have to work to guarantee their future. That’s the same as it’s always been since the beginning of time. That’s partly why we have . . . had a welfare system. My dad and his friends bitched loudly about the lazy bums who took advantage of the welfare system instead of working full time, learning, and trying to advance. He was a union machinist foreman and proud of it.”

  Sam nodded, then said, “And I’m betting we’ll start seeing that behavior soon as food and fuel get scarce and tempers flare. We’ll need to watch for that and try to avoid getting dragged into those situations.” He was silent for a long minute as JR waited. “A second option is to settle in hard to reach rural areas and live in seclusion and hope to be invisible to the zombies as well as the human thieves. That means being totally self-sufficient and waiting to learn what the future brings. Will the zombies win out, or will they someday disappear when all the humans are thought to be eradicated? Or could the rogues win out and run dictatorial regimes and enslave the weaker or independent people who are left? That wouldn’t be too far different from being dead. To summarize, I don’t have a clue about what will happen because it’s much too early to predict an outcome. I was preparing to leave Oklahoma but was unsure of where to go. Recently many online survivalists indicated they would go north through Canada and on into the Yukon or up the Alaskan Highway to Alaska. As it has turned out, there’s not much choice of where to go since the zombies are coming at us from three directions. North is the only viable option left. I’ve already plotted a route to the Yukon and to Fairbanks, Alaska, on paper maps”

  JR stared at him curiously. “Why not use GPS?”

  “I’m using it now. But I guarantee that system along with the internet will soon be only a distant memory, then without paper maps we’d have nothing. In fact, I have maps of the entire country and every state in it including Alaska; but I didn’t bother with Hawaii or any other offshore islands. The zombie onslaught will cause the internet to be shut down due to lack of maintenance, power, and personnel.”

  “You’re just full of gloom and doom possibilities; and it scares the hell out of me. It’s frightening to know my entire life and dreams turned upside down in a single day, and I have only a bleak future ahead of me. The thought of a future like you laid out is as if we’re going back two or three centuries in time to when people worked from dawn to dusk just to have enough food to feed themselves.”

  Sam shrugged. “Yeah, it’s not much to look forward to when compared to the conveniences we grew up with. But it’s what’s there. The life skills we’ll need haven’t been taught or used for a hundred years or more. As far as your life being upended in a day, that’s not totally true. I saw what was happening around the world many months ago; you and others had the same opportunity to see it but chose to laugh it off and ignore it as silly rumors.”

  JR was incensed. “Well, thank you mister hateful know it all. I’m sorry I’m such a dumbass and didn’t realize the world was coming to an end.” She stared straight ahead and quietly pouted.

  JR drove for an hour and fifteen minutes and knew they should soon be approaching Garden City, Kansas. They were in open farm country surrounded by flat land to gently rolling hills; and from the west the ever present wind blew with harsh gusts that caused the truck and trailer to often sway to the right shoulder. The wind caused ripples in the golden wheat crops planted on both sides of the road like human waves in a sports arena. All day they had followed a concrete path through acres of wheat, corn, or soybean fields as far as they could see.

  The orange sun was to the west, and dusk was on the way. Coming over a slight rise, she saw several vehicles on the side of the road about a mile ahead. The only buildings in sight were farm structures in the far distance on each side of the ruler straight highway. Figures milled about in the middle of the road. “Sam, look ahead.” She let up on the gas, coasted, and prepared to stop in case the people needed help.

  Sam straightened and blinked to get awake. “Slower . . . much slower” Sam murmured as the distance closed. “See what’s going on before we get too close . . . there are four trailers behind . . . it looks like a sedan, an SUV, and two pickups . . . easy now . . . some of those are zombies fighting people. Stop here, we’re about a hundred yards from them. I’ll use a rifle to put the zombies down at this safe distance so we don’t get attacked.” He grabbed the steering wheel with his left hand. “I’ll steer while you load a magazine in your Glock. I hope you’re ready for it and don’t shoot yourself.”

  “Yeah. I’m ready; I’ve been practicing my draw empty.”

  “Remember you’re shooting a semiauto. When the magazine is empty, eject it to the ground and jam a loaded one in. Don’t waste time trying to put the empty in a pocket; that could get you killed. Every second is precious with zombies attacking. Good luck girl. Let me know if you get in trouble.”

  The truck stopped and JR shifted to park and set the brake.

  Sam stretched over the seatback and grabbed an M 21 from the gunrack in the rear window, opened the door, stood on the threshold, and quickly counted thirteen zombies. He made head shots as fast as he could aim and squeeze the trigger. “Let me know if any zombies get within fifty feet and hit them with your handgun. I’ll try to save the live humans up ahead first.”

  JR opened her door, exited, and glanced behind them. Two pickups pulling trailers had crossed over the slight rise, and a motorhome was barely visible behind them. Both pickups stopped a hundred yards from her. She turned to where Sam was firing and saw an older, heavyset woman being attacked by two zombies. Blood flowed from open wounds where the woman was bitten as she screamed and fought valiantly. Quickly her struggles ceased, and she fell to the concrete. In less than a minute, she rose in clumsy jerks and joined the attack on people who had been her friends or family members a minute earlier.

  JR watched paralyzed with fear and apprehension. One of Sam’s shots splattered blood and brain matter from a male zombie onto a young girl clinging to her mother’s shorts. A zombie chomped on the mother’s upper arm and dragged her down as she was overpowered. She screamed
for her daughter to run and pushed her away. JR barely heard the sound against the strong breeze and Sam’s rifle fire. The youngster wiped at her face, then turned and scampered behind the trailers. Several other people were being overwhelmed around the young mother. JR glanced to her left and momentarily froze.

  Sam heard several loud pistol blasts from the other side of the truck; he glanced over and saw JR carefully aiming and making head shots at two undead stumbling toward them along the highway’s shoulder. She wore a hard scowl on her face. She needed to improve her accuracy quickly, but she hit the upper skulls of both targets with her fifth and sixth shots. She quickly learned every shot needed to be pinpointed, not just near the brain. He turned back to the melee and made three more shots. Finally all the zombies were neutralized; unfortunately there were no humans left standing. The damage had been done in mere minutes. A horn honked mournfully as the line of traffic behind them pulled out to the left shoulder and passed while avoiding running over as much zombie debris as possible. Five vehicles passed; no one stopped to help. Fear was rampant and self-preservation ruled. Passenger’s faces pressed against the windows to see what zombies looked like. He wondered if they were disappointed to learn they looked like ordinary people whose bodies had been bloodied and abused.

  Sam motioned to JR. “Bring the truck forward.” He waved for her to pull ahead slowly. “I’ll walk ahead and make sure the zombies are all finished, and no humans remain.” Sadly everyone on the road was dead. He quickly saw the reason the convoy stopped. The middle camping trailer pulled by a full sized Lincoln sedan had a flat rear tire on the driver’s side. Three revolvers, a rifle and a shotgun laid among the downed zombies. He wouldn’t touch them because they were probably contaminated. The poor, uninformed victims wasted precious time shooting the zombies torsos instead of their brains. He turned back to JR. “Park off the roadway behind the other vehicles while we nose around. It’ll be dark soon, so we need to be gone before then. We know zombies are in the neighborhood and don’t want to be caught in the dark by more of them.

  “We’ll search the vehicles and trailers quickly and take anything we can use. These people don’t need it and there’s no sense in it going to waste. But be extremely careful and stay close together. A zombie could be lurking inside one of the trailers waiting for a careless human. Don’t touch any of the dead; I read online that their body fluids could possibly be contagious and affect humans after some unspecified period of time. That’s probably how they got into our country. If a human in Europe or Asia was contaminated even slightly before they flew here, but they showed no symptoms, it might take several days or even weeks for the change to take place.” JR stepped from the truck before he said, “ I’ll put the rifle in the truck and lock it, we’ll use handguns when we search. Load a fresh magazine if you haven’t already.”

  “I’ve already filled the magazine I was using. Let’s get stated.”

  They walked through the carnage staying far away from making contact with the large blood spots.

  They looked in the lead pickup first, then moved to the attached trailer. Leaving their homes appeared to be a last minute decision for those people because there was little evidence of prior planning and provision buying. The only sign of preparation was a money stash in a sock drawer. Under the truck’s shell Sam found and claimed three cases of canned meats, four cases of vegetables, and two cases of bottled water. Those were likely bought as an afterthought on their way out of town.

  From the rest of the vehicles and two trailers, they collected more cases of canned and dry foods, three cases of beer, and a small array of firearms and ammunition. Each trailer contained a hidden money supply, and one had ten one ounce gold coins with its currency. JR noted surprise at not finding any pets in or around the trailers. “If they had pets, I guess they were abandoned.”

  Entering the last trailer, they stopped at the subdued sound of muted whimpers. The sounds stopped. Then as they crept ahead it started again. Cautiously they approached a narrow, vertical closet door in the main room where the slight sounds emanated. Sam positioned JR to be behind the door when he opened it. He twisted the knob and the door popped open an inch. Using the longest knife from a kitchen caddy, he pushed the door open rather quickly. Boom! A gun blast surprised them as a bullet zinged past Sam. He lurched backward as he took the slack out of the Glock’s trigger before he saw a small child huddled on the floor with a revolver clutched in her hands and her eyes closed. “Whoa, stop little girl. Don’t shoot. The zombies are dead and it’s safe to come out now.”

  JR poked her head around the door and spoke softly, “Hi, my name is JR. What is your name?”

  Tears flowed down the girl’s cheeks as she fearfully focused back and forth between the strangers. “Put the gun down and come out and let me hug you,” JR said. After a few seconds hesitation, the small frame revolver clunked to the floor and the child stood. “What’s your name?” JR asked.

  ”Breyna.” The small, dark skinned, kinky haired girl replied.

  “Come with me and I’ll wash your face.”

  “Stop, JR! Wait until I find rubber gloves before you touch her. Remember what I told you earlier. Then be very careful to not get any of that gunk on your bare skin especially around cuticles, fingernails, or cuts and scratches.”

  JR looked startled, then recalled what she’d been told about long-term contamination; she nodded. On one knee she addressed the child, “How old are you, Breyna?”

  “Three, I’m three years old.” She looked around the room. “Where’s momma?”

  Sam opened cabinet doors under the kitchen sink and found a pair of long sleeved, yellow vinyl gloves in the back among cleaning supplies. He handed them to JR, then watched her and the child approach the compact bathroom near the single bedroom. “Breyna, take your clothes off out here, and then I’ll give you a shower, so you’ll be clean and smell good.”

  Sam interrupted, “You know this is dangerous, especially since I suspect you’re planning to take her with us.”

  “What other options do we have? Leave her here standing alone alongside the highway in the dark to starve to death or be attacked by more zombies? No! She’s going with us, or you can abandon both of us and we’ll take one of these trailer rigs and be on our own.”

  Sam huffed, shook his head, and raised his arms in defeat.

  “Don’t stand there being useless Sam. Find the child’s clothing and gather all of it to take with us.” She smirked. “You always say we have to hurry, so get a move on. I’ll be done in about twenty minutes . . . and check outside to be sure we’re alone and no more undead are loitering about.” She put the gloves on and gathered Breyna’s soiled clothes and shoved them into a plastic grocery bag Sam tossed near them. “And make sure other survivalist aren’t stealing the goods we sat beside the vehicles and trailers to take with us. In fact, why don’t you load that stuff while I finish here?”

  Sam searched a small bedroom and loaded the child’s clothing in a Disney character’s backpack with Donald Duck, Micky and Minnie Mouse, and Pluto on it. In the larger bedroom, he found cash in a jewelry box. Flipping through the one hundred dollar bills, he guessed there was several thousand dollars. While shaking his head he stuffed the currency bundle in a shirt pocket. Currency definitely wasn’t what he needed more of.

  He laid an outfit on a table for Breyna to wear, told JR where it was, and took the child’s backpack of clothing out of the trailer. He muttered, “Damned woman, do this, do that. Acts like we’re married.” Then he smirked, grinned, nodded and got to work. No other humans were nearby as he walked around the caravan observing the open fields. Occasionally an approaching vehicle slowed to move to the left shoulder to pass, then zoomed again up to at least seventy MPH or more. Some swayed precariously at the high speeds as strong, gusty winds continued to blow unfettered across the open plain. He thought the winds should have calmed by the early evening hours; but they hadn’t.

  Sam was deep in thought about the da
ngers the child brought as he approached the lead trailer of the doomed caravan. A zombie groaned as it stumbled around the front of the pickup, some fifty or so feet away, and lurched toward him; a scabby, longhaired female was close behind it. He judged both had been dead for at least several days and smelled rotten. Sam dropped the backpack and pulled the Glock. He shot as the male raised its arms, opened its maw, and advanced toward him with guttural growls. Its head exploded a second before the female’s did. He stepped past the trailer relieved to be alone. Cautiously he circled the convoy and then finished inventorying the confiscated items they claimed.

  When everything was stowed he figured the trailer was about ninety percent full and probably well over the recommended maximum weight limit. The canned foods were packed in liquid and the cases were heavy. They would continue to travel at a safe and sane 55 MPH in spite of the crazies passing them showing their irritation with frowns and a single fingered indication of their I.Q.

  It was almost fully dark when he jammed the padlock closed on the trailer’s side door and glanced around the area lighted by a thin section of moon casting a dim yellow glow.

  He heard a sound to his right and palmed his gun before he heard JR speak.

  “Breyna, this is Sam. He and I are together, and you can trust him.”

  Sam knelt and extended his hand to Breyna. “Hi Breyna. You sure are cute, and your clothes are cool. I picked those clothes for you to wear. Are you ready to leave?”

  Breyna clung to JR’s leg and stared downward. “JR said my momma and daddy are gone and won’t come back, and I can live with you and her. I miss momma.” Tears welled in her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks.

  JR had a doll in one hand and clutched Breyna’s hand in the other. They got in the truck cab. Before Sam closed the door behind them, JR smiled. “Thank you.”

  Sam nodded, then walked around the truck. He got in to drive, and JR kept Breyna’s attention on the doll in her lap as the truck backed a hundred feet from the carnage and then skirted the carcasses of her family or friends littering the highway.