Jon-Jon slowed to a crawl, peering out the
window and surveying the truck stop. There were several cars he
hadn’t noticed when they initially passed it. Upon closer
inspection, inside the attached eatery, staring back, were another
group of survivors. Stealing the spotlight for a moment was yet
another group of people, separate from the group of people in the
eatery, coming from out of the small store, the Quick Stop, located
toward the rear of the pumps. This new group consisted o three men,
all of which were running toward a car parked just outside the
store’s door. They were carrying out what looked like beef jerky,
chips, handfuls of other fine eatery, a few maps, and cartons of
cigarettes. It all dropped to the ground as they noticed Jon-Jon’s
van and the band of vehicles behind him approaching. Two out of the
three guys pulled out handguns from their waists. The third jumped
into the car with his findings wrapped tightly in his hands.
Jon-Jon opened the door to his van very slowly and stepped out
cautiously. He raised his hands, standing next to his van. Boone
did the same, only he had his gun drawn, Frankie did the same. Ben
and Shorty pulled out their guns and joined the party. Ben’s eyes
turned to narrow slits as he examined the three men.
“We’re not looking for trouble fellas,”
Jon-Jon spoke loud and clear to the three men facing him.
“Neither are we,” said the guy who jumped
into the car.
“Why don’t we all lower our guns then, and
have a chat,” said Jon-Jon. “Where you guys headed to?”
“Headed to Briggstown, you?” The guy in the
car said.
“We were headed toward Titan City, but
there’s a shit-load of dead fuckers down the road between us and
the road we need to be on,” Jon-Jon explained.
“You could just drive right through them
things,” said the tall guy who drew his gun first.
“When I say a shit-load, I mean a fucking
shit-load, maybe even a few thousand,” Jon-Jon put it
poetically.
“No shit?” The tall man asked.
“No shit, man, we were thinking we might be
able to use this station to blast them to hell and continue on our
merry fucking way,” Jon-Jon continued. “This is the only road we
can travel down, everything else if fucked unless we wanted to
travel by foot.”
“Yeah, man…it’s a fucking mess out there, but
if you want to blast a hole in them things, we’re down. We sure as
hell ain’t going back the other way, we lost…we lost everyone two
days ago, man,” the tall man confided.
“Then we better get a move on, before they
catch up,” Boone finally contributed.
Boone directed everyone to drive past the
truck stop, far enough for a big blast. Jon-Jon kept his van at the
station so he and the others that were going to ignite the tanks
could get away safely. They approached the folks at the eatery and
they were more than happy to accompany the plan. They were just
happy to see other people and be a part of something bigger than
hiding at a truck stop—there was hope in numbers, even if hope died
fast. They drove up to join the others, passed what they thought
would be a safe distance. Eddie and Joseph hung outside the
vehicles and kept an eye out for lurkers while they introduced
themselves to the newcomers.
Boone, Jon-Jon, Ben, Shorty, Damian, Corey,
who was the tall man, and Julio, the man who jumped into the car,
stayed at the truck stop to figure out how they could blow it up.
They came to the realization that either way they did it, it would
be a messy, dangerous miracle. Not a single person in the group
knew what to do. Their collective experience with explosives ended
at fireworks and began at the movies. Excessive heat would blow the
propane tank, that much was stated on the side of the tank by means
of a set of warning stickers. They figured if they doused the stop
with enough gasoline the place would ignite and eventually explode.
Ben mentioned shooting at the propane tank from a distance and they
all agreed that seemed to be the best approach.
“I can see them! They’re coming!” Gerty
screamed.
Jon-Jon and Boone looked at each other,
exchanging an entire conversation with a gaze. They ran to the
pumps and tried to pry the hoses free from their dispensing units.
The effort was fruitless. Boone pulled out a small, but
razor-sharp, fillet knife from his pocket and began cutting the
hose. The hose cut easily enough and Boone continued to work
through the rest of them. Jon-Jon and the rest of the guys ran over
to the convoy where anyone with a gun was standing in the street
facing the approaching flesh eaters. The gasoline flowed into the
street creating a small river between the living and the living
dead.
To Boone’s surprise the hoses refused to
release any more of their precious liquid and he ran over to the
rest of them with his eyebrows arched in full disbelief. Ben met
him halfway and explained.
“The dispenser units only hold so much gas,
the rest has to be pumped from the tanks underground,” Ben
said.
“Shit,” Boone replied.
“We’re gonna have to hope blowing the propane
tank does the trick and blows the main tanks below sky high,” Ben
yelled.
“Guess so,” Boone said, then turned to the
rest of the gang and yelled “everyone get back in your cars and
start moving back. We’re gonna blow the tank.”
They listened. Ben, Damian, Boone, and
Jon-Jon stayed behind. They used Jon-Jon’s van to shield themselves
from whatever would happen once they began shooting at the tank.
They waited till the dead things staggered closer. Every second
felt like a season and after ten minutes the dead things were upon
the station. They took aim, counted to three, then fired. They
didn’t have time to shield their faces as a small tink sound turned
into a furious blast leveling most of the truck stop and sending
the four men onto the street with their legs in the air and the
wind knocked out of their lungs. As they stumbled to their feet,
the rest of the truck stop crumpled to the ground. The fire took to
the gasoline and the streets began to burn as the flesh-eating
creatures staggered closer.
Jon-Jon struggled to get to his van, a piece
of shrapnel from the tank had grazed his leg, making it painful to
walk. He pulled himself into the drivers seat as the rest of them
wearily climbed inside the van.
The unscathed creatures were now mere feet
from the van, the ones that walked into the fire melted with each
step forward. Their eyes and lips burned off right away as did
their clothing. They resembled charred mummies now instead of
people. Jon-Jon whipped his van around and sped away toward the
convoy. The convoy had slowed to a crawl and eventually stopped by
the time Jon-Jon had caught up to it. Boone hopped out of the
vehicle to see what the hold up was and as he did, he found out
that he didn’t need to ask. One of the cars from the eatery
addition had crashed into Gerty’s SUV and pinned her and the rest
of her passengers between Scott and Judy’s little trash can on
wheels. The driver of the car was feasting on his passenger as two
people in the backseat were trying to get out. Gerty and her
passengers were trapped, as was Judy, and Scott lie slumped on the
steering wheel with blood coming from his nose.
Boone stepped closer to the scene with his
gun drawn. Ben and Damian stepped out of the van and covered the
rear, making sure nothing crept up on them. Jon-Jon kept his ass in
his seat, moving his eyes from rear view mirror to the view just
outside the windshield. Boone was now to the side of the car that
started the commotion. The two in the backseat had managed to get
out of the car and Boone directed them to the van but they opted
for the closest seat of an obliging driver. He took another step
forward, his gun leading the way and put two shots in the
passenger’s head. Most of her throat was ripped out and dangling
from the mouth of the man behind the wheel. He made eye contact
with Boone and Boone held its gaze for a moment, wondering if
anything human was behind its cold stare. Deciding that it didn’t
matter, he put two in his head as well. He walked over to Scott,
who was now waking up with Judy screaming into his ear. He
recognized Boone, despite how blurry he appeared, and gave him a
thumb up. Scott moved his car to the side, allowing Gerty enough
room to get the convoy rolling again. Damian had begun to squeeze
off a few rounds as the things staggered closer and closer. The
creatures had never looked more alike then now. Though the fire in
the street had died down, they were the color of smoke, much of
their bodies were burned and one could easily confuse them with
skeletons. Ben took a few shots too. Headshots every time, he did
it calmly and made it look easy. It was clear he knew his way
around a weapon. A huge second blast rocked forth from the truck
stop as the tanks below the surface finally ignited. The blast was
blinding and scorched a large number of the dead creatures. The
blast leveled many of the dead troopers and sent others flying into
the air; their lifeless limbs flaking off their charred bodies.
Once the smoke cleared, more soldiers of the dead army stepped
forward to replenish their ranks.
The flames in the rear view continued to burn
bright and hot as Boone directed the convoy past the mess in the
road. He contemplated getting into the bloodied vehicle and moving
it but thought better of it when he saw not an inch of seat that
wasn’t covered in blood. The cars slowly maneuvered around the
wreckage and made their way up the road. Dozens upon dozens of the
stiff legged creatures hobbled onto the road from out of the woods.
Big Cups had his arm hanging out the window when one of the
creatures wrapped its crooked-toothed maw around it and bit down.
Big Cups thrashed in his seat and screamed as the creature pulled a
mouthful of flesh from his small arm. Another two creatures crept
up to the window wanting a taste as well. His screams alerted
everyone in earshot but they couldn’t do much more than drive away.
The road was soon full of the bloodthirsty creatures. Cups was
dragged from the window as his car sped away, and Ricker, in the
back seat with him, was too scared to do anything but whimper. He
simply watched as Cups kicked and screamed and then finally
disappeared.
Another car from the group at the eatery
swerved into a ditch on the side of the road, trying to avoid
several other lurkers that appeared from the side of the road. The
dead things were clawing at their windows. The driver aimed her gun
at one of them and fired a shot into its head, hitting her mark.
Unfortunately, though, the bullet broke the window and the other
dead things got inside before she could make another shot
count.
The others attempted to flee but couldn’t
move past the dead weight of their attackers. They screamed for
help and for God but neither showed up. They died slowly as dead
mouths tore the skin from their bodies. Boone ran to Jon-Jon’s van
and jumped in as Frankie’s truck swerved off the road and spun out
of control. They sped up to them as Boone and Damian jumped out of
the vehicle with guns drawn. Ben poked half his body out the window
and fired his weapon several times, only half his shots hitting
anything of worth. Frankie, Eddie and Joseph climbed out of the
truck as Damian kicked one of the creatures back and down. He put
his foot on the creature’s throat and fired three shots into the
dead things head. Boone shot one that was creeping up behind them
and Frankie fired his shotgun and took down three more that were
approaching the truck.
Frankie ran around the front of the vehicle
to see why he lost control of his truck and when he did he almost
lost control of his stomach. He fought to hold back the vomit that
was climbing his esophagus as he aimed his gun at a creature that
was wrapped up and mangled in his truck’s wheel-well. A mangled arm
reached for Frankie and he shot it, though he couldn’t imagine how
the thing would ever get itself unwound and mobile. The axle was
wrecked and Frankie punched his truck, twisting his wrist in the
process. The three of them gathered what they could in the frenzy
and ran toward the van as Ben popped out of the window again to
give them some covering fire.
With the van full, Jon-Jon pressed down hard
on the pedal and sped up to the rest of the convoy. Ben kept
himself half out of the van and tried to shoot a few more of the
lurking creatures but each shot failed to reach its intended
target. His shots were as wild as his eyes. He hung out of the
window like a dog, even his tongue hung out slightly.
The convoy drove for nearly an hour, passing
what had become the usual wreckage of abandoned cars and ransacked
strip malls. Occasionally a lone lurking flesh eater would stagger
into view and quickly vanish in a trail of dust and exhaust fumes.
Eventually the road forked and they would have to decide on taking
route 287 (a surefire suicide solution) or taking route 519 into
Union County and hope for the best. Shorty and Chung-Hee had been
in the lead and pulled to the side of the road leaning toward 519,
they waited there till the rest of the convoy was gathered. After
very little discussion route 519 was chosen and Jon-Jon led the
procession into Union County.
CHAPTER 5: Good intentions
It was getting darker out now, and the heavy
foliage made it even darker. Jon-Jon eased the van down the road
and took the exit for Mill Creek and continued to head west on Dry
River Road. They drove past a ‘Welcome to Mill Creek’ sign that was
in desperate need of repair or replacement.
Under light of the moon, buildings became
visible. First up was some sort of print shop that looked more like
a warehouse. The parking lot was empty and there was a wire fence
separating it from the woods behind it. They drove past it and soon
found themselves in the middle of what looked like the main street.
But it wasn’t called Main Street, it was called Broadway and it was
littered with newspapers, and glass from the broken windows of the
storefronts.