The Dead Road: The Complete Collection (5 page)

“Good,” I said, “Eli’s inside scrounging for anything useful.”

Roger came over to sit beside me. “How bad is it? Your foot, I mean.”

“Not terrible. I cleaned it out. It’s a deep cut, probably deep enough to need stitches, but I’m not exactly a doctor.”

Roger smirked, “Find me a needle and thread and I’ll sew you up.”

I chuckled, “Not a chance. You’re less of a doctor than I am. At least I know CPR.”

“Oh good. If one of us has a heart attack, you’re our guy.”

“Yeah, and if one of us needs a witty ad campaign worked up to convince the monsters to eat something other than people you can handle that.”

“Hey, marketing will be a valuable tool as we rebuild society. Who will tell the rest of the people what to think?”

We both laughed a bit. It felt good to laugh.

Eli came back out carrying a cardboard box, Big Earl’s boots resting on top. “Road flares, a six pack of beer, some tools from the garage, and your new shoes. I wouldn’t touch those socks with a pair of pliers though.”

I smiled and grabbed the boots, carefully pushing my injured foot inside. It was at least a size too big, but that was more manageable than a size too small.

Roger showed him the shotgun, “Found this in the tow truck out back.”

I pulled the boot laces tight, trying to compensate for size. “Ok guys, time for a plan.” They both looked at me. I looked between them, taking a breath. They were both attentive and focused. “We’re going to have to head into town. Someone set that message to broadcast, and that means people are alive in there. We also need supplies. Food, water, guns, ammo, spare clothes, anything we can make use of. I don’t know if there’s a military perimeter out there or what, but we have to plan for the worst. It may only be a few days, or it may be weeks before we find safety.”

Roger said “So where do we go from here?”

“We look for the other survivors. We’re better off in a bigger group. Harder for one of us to get bitten if we’re watching each other’s backs. After that, we start heading south.”

Eli shifted on his feet, “Back to the city, man? You wanna deal with ten million of these things?”

I sighed, shaking my head slightly. “I don’t, but, right now it’s the only thing we got. North from here is more mountains all the way up into Canada, and I don’t know the lay of the land up here at all. We need a steady supply chain, and that means we need stores, truck stops, and towns. I don’t want to head deeper into the woods until we know we can live out there for a few months.” I thought of my Manhattan apartment, my Egyptian cotton sheets and my memory foam mattress. I thought of Katie. “But if things aren’t as bad as all that, yeah, back to the city.”

Eli rubbed his jaw and nodded. “More guns, then. We gotta be armed.”

Roger said “You know, there’s a store outside of Stockton called Stapleton’s. It’s a combination liquor store, deli, grocery store and gun store. It’s an odd place, but exactly the kind of thing we need.”

“But that’s back towards Stockton, man. You heard the radio, we don’t wanna go there.”

I held my hand up, “First things first, we should find the radio signal. More guns won't matter if there's only three of us to shoot them.” I slid down off of the hood and limped towards the back door of the car. Even though the boots didn't fit right, it was markedly better than walking on nothing. The sharp pains in my sole had become a muted throb. I sat down in the back with a relieved exhale, wiggling my toes in the oversized boots.

Roger got in the passenger side, holding the shotgun in his lap. Eli handed my rifle back to me before getting in behind the wheel. He started the car and looked to Roger, "Alright man, where am I going?"

Roger looked out the window, seemingly deep in thought. "The broadcast tower would be somewhere high up, and these small town stations probably aren't the most modern operations. I'd say stick to the higher roads, and let's try to spot a tower through the trees. Keeps us away from the center of town too."

Eli nodded and put the car in gear. I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes. One of us needed to get some sleep. "Wake me if you see anything." I drifted off before I could even register a response.

*****

I woke to Roger shaking me awake. I groaned and he clamped his hand over my mouth and hissed a quick "
Shh!" I opened my eyes, trying to shake the sleep from my mind. We were still in the car, but in the distance I could hear a familiar chorus of groans and shuffling feet. Roger was staring into my eyes, waiting for the glimmer of comprehension as I rose from dream. I nodded in understanding and Roger removed his hand. He whispered, barely audible, "We're near the parking lot of the radio station." I nodded again, and shifted to sit up and get a look out the window.

The building was a small, concrete structure built on the side of the hill such that it seemed to lean forward. Atop it was an old radio antenna, stretching high above the treetops. There was a single metal door, above which glowed a red "On Air" sign. Two small windows looked out over the parking lot. We were a few hundred feet away from the parking lot, on the winding road that led up the hillside. The entire lot was full of zombies.

This was the largest group we had seen so far. At least fifty of the things shuffled and milled about the lot, clustered near the door of the station, ineffectually pawing at the walls with their bloodied hands. Both windows were covered by wire grates, ostensibly to keep them from being broken, and the monsters were pressed against those as well. The walls we covered in bloody smears left by the things as the skin on their hands and fingers gave way against the rough concrete. They moaned in a chorus of dedicated hunger, the same noise they made when we were being chased off the mountain. That meant they had prey.

I lifted the rifle to peer through the scope, trying to see into the windows. Beyond the grates I could make out crude defenses. I could see furniture stacked haphazardly against the windows, shelves and desks piled atop one another. I whispered "Someone's inside, and they've barricaded themselves in."

Eli was breathing heavily, both hands clenched on the steering wheel, his knuckles white with nervous tension. "We gotta do something, man."

Roger said "Yeah, we gotta leave. This place is overrun. There's nothing we can do about this. For all we know whoever's inside is already dead."

I kept scanning the building, looking for some indication, some sign of life. "Eli, flash the headlights."

"What?!" His voice cracked.

"Just do it. I need to see something."

He reached down with jerky motions to tap the high beams twice, then returned his hand to its position at the top of the steering wheel. From inside someone flashed back - two quick pulses of light from a flashlight. None of the monsters noticed. Eli said "Oh shit, did you see that? Someone's inside!"

I nodded, "Yeah. I saw. You don't know Morse code, do you?"

Eli shook his head. Roger smirked. "What do you think we are, Alex? Morse code?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah it was a long shot, I know." I continued to peer through the scope, trying to catch sight of someone inside, but it was too dark, and the spaces between the metal grating too small. "I can't see anything beyond the stuff piled in front of the windows."

Roger raised his voice, his agitation driving him to speak above a whisper. "Yeah, well there's dozens of those things between them and us. The way I see it, we're free, they're fucked."

Eli wrung the steering wheel with both hands. His jaw was clenched. I turned my head to look at him directly. "Eli? You okay, pal?"

He started the car. Roger sat back with a smug look, "Good thinking. Let’s get the fuck out of here."

He put the car in drive and slammed on the gas. The tires squealed and the car lurched forward, kicking up a cloud of dust behind us. The engine roared. Roger put both hands on the dashboard to brace himself. I dropped the rifle and grabbed the backs of both seats as best I could. I could see a number of the monsters turning their heads as we screamed towards them.

Eli slammed on the brakes as the first of them crashed against the front of the car, turning the wheel hard to the right. The car swung around, throwing me against the door. I could hear bones breaking against the side as we tore an arc through the zombies. The back end struck the building with a loud crunch, softened by the sheer mass of dead flesh between the car and the concrete. Eli stepped on the gas again, the car only drifting forward, the tires spinning on the puddles of gore that were forming, finding it hard to gain traction on the now-wet blacktop. Plumes of red and black sprayed against the concrete walls, painting a grisly pattern against the gray. Then the wheels caught, making us jump forward, headlong into another clutch of zombies, sending them to the ground.

Roger was stunned into silence, his eyes wide, hanging on to the dashboard with both hands. I struggled to get myself upright, the car sliding and jerking keeping me off balance. Eli drove to the edge of the lot and then turned around. There were at least two dozen of the things crawling on the ground, many with legs and bodies broken, trying to drag themselves by their fingers. Others struggled to stand, losing their footing in the slick puddle of blood. The rest shambled towards us in a mob, arms outstretched, hissing and moaning. Eli stared out at them, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, revving the engine in short pulses.

"What the hell?" I managed to sputter before Eli slammed down on the gas once again, letting go of the brake. The car leapt to life, plowing through the mob of lurching corpses, sending another dozen sprawling, scattering the rest. One rolled over the hood and hit the windshield, creating a spider web of cracks on the right side. He sped to the opposite side of the lot then slammed on the brakes, jerking the wheel to send us into another spin. Eli was determined, focused, even calm, as he repositioned the car for another pass.

In that moment I had two thoughts. First was the shock that this was Eli. He was bloodthirsty, almost savage as he wielded his car like a weapon, but the rage seethed behind his expressionless exterior. This was a side of Eli I had never seen before. He was the type of guy that needed three drinks to talk to a girl at a bar, and didn't cross the street until the light turned green.

The other thought was the surprise at how effective this method of killing walking corpses was turning out.

Each pass of the car knocked the gathered mass to the side, crushing some under the tires, breaking arms and legs as we rushed past. Each time there were fewer gathered, others struggling to stand or crawl, which made them easier to hit the next time. He gunned the engine again, racing once again to the other side of the lot, through the thinning gathering of dead. I could see that we weren't killing many of them, but enough were getting mangled to the point that they posed little threat. The key, though, was that the door to the small concrete building was forgotten. They shambled towards us mindlessly, like fish swimming in a tank, practically lining up for Eli's next pass.

We went back and forth twice more before Eli finally put the car in park. He was breathing heavily, his adrenaline making his hands shake as he rubbed his face. Roger looked back and forth between the view through the broken windshield and at Eli. "Holy shit, Elijah!"

Eli lowered his hands and looked at Roger. "I'm done being food, man. I'm fucking done. I am not going to run around scared anymore. I'm not a kid hiding in my closet hoping the monsters don't get me. We're men. We have brains. We have tools. We have fucking civilization! I'm not letting this... this... whatever it is! Plague! Outbreak! Alien invasion! Whatever! I'm not letting it make me less than a man! If I am going to leave this world it's going to be the same way I entered it - Kicking, screaming, and covered in blood! Now give me the hatchet, and I'm going to that door."

I didn't even think twice before grabbing the hatchet off of the floor and handing it to him. "Watch your feet," I cautioned, "there's still plenty of them crawling around out there."

He took the hatchet from my hand with a grim not. "Roger, back me up. One gets to close, blast'em."

Roger rolled down the window and pulled himself up, climbing onto the roof of the car, shotgun in hand. I could hear the weak and scattered groans of the broken and mangled things trying to make their way to the car. Eli opened his door. One of them was on the ground beside the car. It hissed and reached with its one good arm, its torso crushed against the pavement. Eli snarled and struck with the hatchet, splitting its head open. He stepped down hard on the thing's skull as he climbed from the car. I heard its head cave in as he rose. The sound sent a shiver down my spine.

Roger fired a round, knocking down one of the things that had managed to get to its feet. I heard the shell casing hit the roof as he cocked the shotgun. "We don't have all day, Eli!"

Eli jogged the few steps to the door of the building, pausing only to kill another broken thing as it moaned on the ground.  He went to the metal door and knocked, calling out, "Hey! Anyone in there?"

I could hear something heavy being dragged across the floor from inside. I opened the back door of the car to lean out, watching Eli's back as he waited. Most of the things closest to the building were dead, crushed in the initial assault. I kept my rifle at the ready, watching for movement. Roger shifted on the roof of the car, keeping a vigilant eye on the slow moving, half broken, and crippled things spread across the lot.

There was an echoing clank as a heavy lock was opened. The door opened a crack. Eli peered inside, "Hey, uh, someone? You ok? We're here to help."  The door opened all the way.

She was younger than I expected, probably in her early 20's. She was wearing black cargo shorts and a stained t-shirt, spattered across the front with drying blood. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, and her eyes held a faraway stare, haunted and alert all at once. In one hand she help a crowbar, in the other a heavy police-issue flashlight. She looked at Eli, but didn't seem to fully comprehend the situation yet.

"Uh, hey there," Eli said, "we're, uh, we heard your radio broadcast. We're here to help. You get trapped in here or something?"

Roger blasted another creature as it struggled to its feet. "Eli! Enough with the small talk, brother. We gotta go!"

The girl blinked, nodding slowly. Tears welled in her eyes. The crowbar fell from her hand, clattering noisily to the ground.

Eli reached out, taking her by the arm carefully. "Get in the back seat. That's Alex. Roger's on the roof. I'm Elijah, or, Eli for short. We'll get you out of here. With us."

She nodded, letting out a whimper. Her lips quivered. I slid aside so she could sit beside me. I gave her an awkward smile, trying, very clumsily, to reassure her. "Hey."

Eli closed her door then got back in the driver's seat. Roger shot twice, killing two more that were getting too close, then climbed back into the car. He had barely gotten his butt in the seat when Eli hit the gas and sped out of the lot, making for the access road. I looked out the back window at the scene we were leaving behind. It was carnage. Dozens of broken and mangled bodies lay across the parking lot, many still moving, struggling feebly to crawl after us as we left.  There were splotches of blood dripping down the radio station walls, puddles of gore on the ground, and the chorus of groans was reduced to a low gurgle as air moved through collapsed chest cavities. The girl turned to look, shivered once, then began to cry, covering her face in her hands. She made no sound, but I could see her shoulders heaving as she finally let the pent up emotions flow. I patted her back again. "It's alright, you're safe now. We have you."

It didn't last long. Within a minute she had composed herself. She sniffled once, wiped her cheeks with her palms, and cleared her throat. "I'm Amy."

Roger turned around to face her more directly, tucking the shotgun between his seat and the door. "How'd you manage to get trapped in there, Amy? And how long have you been there?"

Amy took a deep breath before sitting back in the seat, calming herself. "Three days. You guys don't have any food, do you? There was a bathroom sink I could drink from, but no real food. Just a few things I scavenged from the vending machine and studio mini-fridge."

I pointed my thumb back at the trunk, "We have a little bit of camp food, but that's all. We had to move fast, so we left most of our gear up on the mountain." I tapped Eli on the shoulder. "When you feel safe enough pull over and pop the trunk."

I was suddenly aware of how hungry I was. In all of the excitement I had lost track, but now that things felt relatively safe I could feel that my stomach was completely empty. We hadn't eaten since the previous evening, before that thing wandered into camp, before Jake got bitten. It felt like it had been a week since all of this started, but in truth it was barely sixteen hours.