by Kadin, Karri
The drive through town was unnerving. Cars parked, doors wide open, in the middle of the street. Most store windows on Main Street were shattered with the contents inside obviously looted. No people. No Infected. Nothing.
The gas gauge showed a little over half a tank. Veronica hoped that was enough to get her where she needed to go, but this tank probably guzzled gas like a dieter on a cheat day. The only gas station in town had a sign out front, “No gas”, and the pumps were blocked by cars so she didn’t bother stopping.
Within ten minutes, the Jeep roared onto the two-lane state highway that would take her the bulk of the way to her destination. The road was mostly deserted. Most evacuees must have chosen the interstate which was better maintained and had more lanes. She found herself going eighty and hitting the brakes when she saw the speed limit sign. A laugh escaped her lips when she realized what she had done, and then she pressed her foot on the gas.
“We should live a little before we die, Perrito.” Timber let out the equivalent of a dog sigh and looked out the window. Veronica rolled the window down halfway and he stuck his head out. His jowls flapped in the wind and he snapped at the air, trying to catch it in his mouth. Veronica laughed and Timber wagged his tail.
The surrounding fields were partially harvested. Large farm equipment sat in the middle of half processed fields, destined to never complete their reaping. Now and then she would spot a few figures off in the distance. It was impossible to tell if they were the sick or survivors. Trying to find out was too risky, so Veronica pressed on.
The highway was dotted with abandoned vehicles, but mostly it all seemed fairly ordinary. This wasn’t what the apocalypse looked like in the movies. Where were the hordes of zombies? Groups of scrappy survivors? Massive destruction? The sun was right above her now and her stomach growled. She reached in the back and pulled a can of Vienna sausage from her bag. As soon as she pulled back the tin lid, Timber’s face was back inside the Jeep; his big dark eyes jumped between the can and her. She tossed him a couple sausages before devouring the rest herself.
They passed a sign, “Walcaster exit 103.” Veronica glanced at the map and realized the first town they could not bypass was coming up soon. She rolled up Timber’s window despite his whining protest. She made sure the doors were locked, gripped the wheel with both hands, and focused on the road ahead. Timber was getting antsy. His paws danced on the seat as his butt wiggled. He looked out the window and whined.
“It is not the time to stop, Timber. No potty breaks until we are through the town.” She reached out and stroked his back until his jittering stopped.
Scattered buildings came into focus up ahead, and the speed limit signs counted down. They were almost there. Veronica slowed the Jeep as they passed by the carved wood “Welcome to Walcaster” sign surrounded by a patch of pink azaleas. The highway was more congested here, as it seemed to also be the main road in town. Vehicles parked in lines down both sides of the asphalt. Colorful tape surrounded a small lot, full of cars, with signs at the entrance, “$5 carnival parking.” A Ferris wheel that had seen better days stood a few blocks away. Dead bodies littered the sidewalks and streets. Some missing limbs, others were badly burned.
Veronica rolled to a halt at the only stoplight in town and gasped. Piles of rubble stood where buildings should be. A thick layer of soot covered almost everything. Footprints and other marks scattered across, leaving multiple intersecting trails. Colorful banners advertising funnel cakes and swirling rides still adhered to a few standing walls; twisted metal and blackened wood, the only reminders of the rides that had once been.
Her pulse raced. She drove over bits of rubble and around cars and other remnants of destruction. The further into town she went, the worse everything seemed. The carnival in the town square seemed to be the center of the blast radius. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head to look, whatever it was had disappeared. Timber’s fur stood on end and a low growl escaped his lips. More movement, this time to the opposite side. Veronica hit the gas, and the Jeep picked up speed.
She could see the edge of town when a woman suddenly jumped out in front of her. Veronica slammed both her feet onto the brake and the Jeep screeched to a halt. The woman smiled and held up her hands as she trudged to the driver’s side window. Timber kept his eyes locked on the woman and moved closer to Veronica. He was almost in her lap. The woman gestured for Veronica to open the window. Veronica moved forward again when the woman grabbed her door handle and pulled out a gun. Timber started barking at the woman.
Veronica’s stomach rolled, and she wrapped a shaky arm around Timber. She cursed herself for not pulling the gun from her waistband before she entered town. Four other people, all with guns pointed at her, quickly surrounded the Jeep. The only way out was to run someone over. Which she was not ruling out as an option, but would prefer not to. Veronica cracked the driver’s side window.
“Shut the damn dog up or I’ll shoot him,” the woman said. Veronica patted his side.
“Shh, Boy. Good Timber.” Timber’s barking ceased but his hackles stayed up and Veronica could feel the rumbles of small growls in his chest.
“Now, if you’d please step out of my new Jeep, I won’t have to shoot you. I’d really hate to dirty the interior.”
“Turn off the engine first,” one man said. Veronica didn’t see a way out without getting shot, and if she had to bet, she’d say everyone around her was an excellent shot. She killed the engine and popped open the door.
“Wait, wait, wait. You need to put that mutt on a leash. We can’t have him loose out here. He seems to have an attitude,” a burly man with a rifle said as he walked over and stood next to the woman.
“I don’t have a leash for him.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to shoot him.”
“Leroy Ballard, just get the woman a damn rope.” The woman shoved Leroy, and he sulked off to the side, only to return a few seconds later with a long thin rope. He slipped it through the cracked door and Veronica tied a slip knot on one end and placed it over Timber’s head. She tightened it so it was snug, but left room for her to slip a finger between it and his neck.
“Move slowly.” The woman kept her gun leveled at Veronica’s head.
Veronica eased from the Jeep, keeping a tight hold on Timber’s lead and adjusting her shirt to cover her gun. He followed right after, staying pressed to her side.
“Now move over there.” The woman waved the gun toward the side of the road.
“But what about my things?”
“They are my things now.” The woman smiled. Her Winnie the Pooh shirt speckled with blood and stretched to the limit over her hefty bosom. The cartoon bear seemed to dance on her chest with each move she made.
Veronica’s chest burned with anger. The gun tucked in her waistband pressed against her back, begging her to use it. The possible scenarios of her trying to use the gun ran through her mind, and none of them ended with her living. She had never shot a gun and had no idea if she even had any bullets. She really hadn’t thought this whole carrying-a-gun-thing out.
“What are we gonna do with her, Sally Ann?”
“Leave her for the Infected.”
“But she looks like she’d be fun. I wanna take her.” A man with a crooked smile said. Veronica’s heart sank and bile filled her mouth.
“Leroy Paul Ballard, you need to clean that filthy brain of yours! You will do no such thing!”
“Who made you the Queen Bee? I think we should all get to vote on this,” the man standing at the front of the truck said, and the others nodded. Anger roared in Veronica’s chest, flipping every survival instinct she had into hyper-drive.
The group bickered loudly back and forth. Veronica stepped back slowly, trying to create some distance between herself and her attackers. Timber’s body vibrated against hers as his deep growl pierced the air. A flash of movement caught Veronica’s attention, but before she could react, a man with black vei
ns rushed one of her attackers. The thing tackled the man to the ground and chaos broke out around her. A high-pitched, girlish scream parted the man’s lips but was swiftly silenced by the monster’s teeth on his neck. Former humans rushed them from all sides. Gunshots rang out and more of the sick gave chase.
Veronica flew forward, keeping a tight hold on Timber’s rope. She dived into the Jeep with Timber right on her heels. She grabbed the door with both hands and tried to pull it closed, but the hands of a sick woman grasped the edge. Her short black hair framed a delicate face that was smeared in blood. She was missing the tell-tale black veins, but her eyes were wild. Veronica and the woman were locked in a tug of war over the door. The woman jerked back, ripping the door from Veronica’s hands, then lunged for her just as Timber charged. His large body slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, and his bite punctured her shoulder. The woman howled in pain and clawed at Timber, but he didn’t ease up.
“Timber! Come now!” Veronica pulled the gun from her back, aimed it at the woman, and prayed. Timber jumped back and Veronica pulled the trigger. The monster’s brains blew out the back of her head, her face frozen in a twisted grin.
Veronica and Timber zoomed through town in the Jeep. They caught glimpses of their attackers still on the run from the sick monsters, but they didn’t stop.
The Jeep bolted down the asphalt at ninety miles per hour, and the nightmare town quickly disappeared from view. Open fields and nothingness again surrounded them. Timber whimpered in the seat next to her and his big paws scraped at the leather. Veronica placed a shaking hand on his head.
“I know. Mother Nature calls.” She slowed the Jeep and watched the land around them for movement. When she was sure they were alone, she pulled to the shoulder, removed the lead from Timber’s neck, and let him hop out. She kept scanning the area until he finished doing his business. She then kept the Jeep running and popped a squat to relieve herself as well, not bothering to cover herself.
They loaded back in the Jeep and she gave them both some water and waited for her hands to stop shaking. Timber laid his head in her lap and closed his eyes. She picked up her gun and figured out how to open the clip to check for bullets. She had two. Veronica pulled the box of bullets from her bag and filled the clip with what was in it. Nine bullets total. That was better than none, but they definitely needed to be used sparingly. She opened a can of beans, pulled back onto the road, and poured the can into her mouth as she drove. Timber slept peacefully. Every time she looked down at his gigantic head covering her lap, she smiled.
She checked the time and referenced the map. The holdup in Walcaster cost her precious time. She would barely make it to the pickup spot-on time. An hour later they rolled into the next town, Hickory. It was smaller than the last and seemed pretty much intact. Curtains drawn on every window, even the shops. Veronica saw curtains twitch and felt she was being watched. A couple of sick with black veins ran up to her Jeep, but she easily passed them when she increased speed.
Timber was up and staring out the window at the countryside, his tail slowly wagging across the seat. He was so easily pleased. Veronica’s eyes landed on the gas gauge. Right at a quarter of a tank. That wouldn’t be enough to get her to the pickup point. She used the fancy dashboard buttons to find the Jeep’s miles per gallon and then pulled to the side of the road to evaluate the map. She studied all of her route options, but none of them could get her there without more gas.
“Well, fuck.” Timber’s ears perked up. Veronica turned off the engine and hopped from the Jeep with the big dog by her side. Veronica took her little gas can and poured what was left in it into the Jeep’s tank. She tossed the plastic can into the back as she climbed into the driver’s seat and immediately regretted not putting the cap back on it as the smell of gas filled the Jeep. She cranked the engine on and rolled down the windows as she viewed the gas gauge.
“Double fuck.” Still not enough to make it there. She had to find a gas station.
A tiny town was a few miles east, out of the way, but according to the pump icon on the old map there was a gas station there. It was her only option besides trying to make the last fifty miles on foot. She downed another bottle of water and headed toward Viekerson.
Silhouettes spotted the fields walking along the horizon. Veronica kept her foot on the gas and tried to ignore them as she sped by. Every few minutes she would spot a new figure scurrying across the farmland and her stomach would drop. The number of sick turned monster was increasing. An image of the woman with delicate features whose skull she had put a bullet in flashed in her mind. Her mind flooded with questions. Who had she been? Could she have been saved? What else could she have done to save Timber but spare the woman?
The black veins of infection had been absent on the woman. Why? She looked so normal, minus the blood smeared across her pale skin and the wild eyes. Why did some turn into nightmares while others died? And most importantly, how many more times was Veronica going to have to kill to survive?
When the city limit sign for Viekerson appeared, every muscle tightened as her body shifted to high alert. Timber sensed the change and sat up tall in his seat and surveyed the surroundings. The town couldn’t be over ten blocks wide, and the little buildings looked as if they had been long deserted. This town was dying before the apocalypse. A worn green and white sign with a smiling dinosaur on it indicated the gas station up ahead, right off the highway.
Veronica slowed to stop in the middle of the road and leaned toward the window, listening. Birds chirped, and the wind whispered through the trees. Timber seemed relaxed as he looked around and pressed his nose against the opening in the window, trying to push his head through. She rolled his window down more so he could hang his head out. She slowly pulled forward, taking the time to thoroughly look down each street she passed on her way to the pump. The gas station had a solitary old yellow truck parked to the side. It was up on a rusty jack and missing a tire. Someone had probably left there it long ago.
She pulled up alongside the pump and killed the engine. Timber turned to her and licked her face. She held his head between her hands and kissed his nose.
“Stay.” He whimpered, and she scratched his ears before hopping from the truck. The nozzle went in and the pump turned on with no problem, but it wouldn’t start. The screen flashed; “See Cashier.” The windows of the building were dark and dirty. No telling who or what was inside.
Veronica opened the passenger side door, and Timber jumped to the ground. She reached into the center console and pulled out the handgun, slipping it into her waistband. She hurried to the door of the store and looked in. The sunlight from the windows dimly lit the interior. The shelves were fully stocked and nothing seemed out of place. She yanked on the door and the jingle of a bell pierced the silence as it swung open. Veronica paused, Timber pressed against her leg, but the interior of the store remained still. She slipped behind the counter and hit a button near the cash register that was flashing “Pump 2.”
“Hopefully, that does it. Let’s grab some snacks.”
She grabbed a bag from behind the counter and walked along the aisles, searching the shelves for something that would make this feel like a joyous road trip instead of the soul-sucking nightmare it really was. Timber stayed by her side, his tail slightly wagging. She found a few logs of beef jerky and opened one up and tossed it to him before dropping the rest in the bag. Timber laid on the floor and chewed on his dried-out meat treat while Veronica continued her little shopping spree. The store was small and didn’t seem to carry much of anything. But it didn’t seem to have been ransacked, and the few shelves it contained were still full. She loaded up on all the shelf-stable food she could carry except for the lone bag of Fritos. She hated those crunchy curls of despair. They were an insult to the glorious corn they were made from.
A gunshot broke through the air, followed by a woman’s screams. Veronica dropped to her knees and listened. More gunshots, more screams. Timbers’ deep growl vibrat
ed in the air as he raced to her. Veronica’s mind immediately went to the unlocked door to the store. Timber pressed his body against hers; the hair along his spine stood straight up and he kept his eyes locked to the front of the store. Veronica scurried on hands and knees across the floor, making her way to the door. Timber followed.
Veronica reached the entrance to the store just as a group of people ran across the parking lot. She reached up and flipped the lock on the door before pushing it forward a bit to make sure it locked. Veronica moved from the door and sat against the wall next to a rack full of sunglasses. She glanced around the rack to glimpse what was happening outside. Her arms wrapped around Timber and held him close, making sure they both weren’t visible from the parking lot.
There were at least a dozen people outside now. Monsters had surrounded a group of survivors. The sick outnumbered the healthy. Gunshots again. Veronica scrunched up her body with her knees to her chest, making sure the display of sunglasses hid her entire body, and kept a hand on Timber. There was a loud slap and the jingle of a bell as something slammed against the door. A man’s scream pierced the air so loud it could have been right next to her head. Timber let out a low growl followed by a whimper, and he nudged his head against her neck. She leaned forward to get a glimpse of the parking lot but could only see a large blood smear on one of the glass doors, starting midway up the pane and ending at a body sitting with its back against it. Two human figures hunched over the body. Their movements were frantic as their hands traveled from the body to their faces and back again. Every few seconds a snarl or a growl interrupted their fevered movements.
