Eliza stepped on Randy’s dried husk of manhood as she walked away.
“Where we going to get more truckers?” Al asked Kong.
“I’ve got an idea about that. Shouldn’t really be a problem,” he told the younger man.
“Do you really think these work?” Dom asked as he held out the small vial Eliza had given them all.
Kong was absently rubbing his fingers over the vial he now wore around his neck. He didn’t know for sure, but he was going to check because, if they didn’t, he was going to consider their agreement null and void. Then he was going to go as far west as he could before driving into the ocean.
“Come on, Al, you ride with me,” Kong said.
“You want me to leave my rig here?” Al asked.
“Yeah. I just want to check something out, and the quieter we go in, the better.”
“Sure,” Al answered, but he wasn’t comfortable with it at all.
“What do you want me to do?” Dom asked.
“Get rid of Randy’s body. We’ll be right back,” Kong told him.
“You want me to bury the fat fuck? It’ll take me hours to dig something deep enough,” Dom replied.
“Did I say to bury him? Just get the body out of the middle of the parking lot. We’re going to have dozens of trucks in here. I don’t need someone squashing his lard ass all over the place.”
Dom lit a cigarette. “Fine, but I’m not touching his pecker.”
“Not much to worry about there anyway,” Kong said.
Kong and Al drove a few miles until Kong found what he was looking for: a small band of zombies wandering the neighborhood. They were still far off, but the sound of the huge diesel Mack engine was drawing them in like gypsies to a rhinestone festival.
“Hey, Al, can I see that new gun you lifted off that guy the other day?” Kong asked. Al handed him the piece. “She sure is a beaut,” Kong said as he looked at the extended barrel Colt .45. “Loaded too,” he said as he looked into the cylinder. “Get out.” Kong pointed the revolver at Al’s forehead.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Al said as he put his hands up and licked his lips nervously.
“A test. Get out. I’m not going to say it again.”
“Come on, man, we’re friends and shit,” Al said, sweat popping out all over his face as he looked out the window to the approaching zombies. “Come on, man, you can’t really believe this little vial of shit is going to stop them, do you?”
“Well Eliza sure seems to think that it will. If it does, then I have to honor my end of the agreement. I’ll be honest, I’m really kind of hoping that it doesn’t so I can get the fuck out of here.”
“If it doesn’t work, Kong, I’m dead.”
“Yeah…sucks for you. Get out.”
“Kong, man, please? We’re friends.”
Kong pulled the hammer back on the revolver. “I’ve known you for two weeks. I’ve had a sore on the inside of my lip for longer. Don’t make me have to clean your brains up out of my truck.”
Al hesitated a moment longer as he stared down the barrel of his own gun. “You’re a fucking asshole,” he said as he jumped down off the truck and started sprinting for the nearest house.
Kong reached over and shut his passenger door—locking it for good measure—and then proceeded to watch the show. The zombies changed their angle of pursuit as Al crossed the street and went to the first house he could. Kong snickered as Al frantically pulled on the security door. Al first looked back towards the truck to see if Kong was going to help, then went further down the street.
“Should have told the fucker to stand still. My fault,” Kong said as he slowly backed the truck up to keep pace with the fleeing Al.
Al had only been a truck driver for five years, but they had been rough years on his body. He ate fast food and drank to excess while on the road and it showed; he was running out of steam by the time he figured he was not going to gain entry in the second house either. The zombies had closed to within twenty feet. Al turned to meet his fate, fists upraised as if that were going to stop the swarm. Then, just as they got within teeth-snapping distance, they stopped.
The closer ones began sniffing the air all around Al.
“Son of a bitch, the shit works,” Kong said almost silently as he tucked in the precious vial under his shirt.
Al kept ducking his head and rapidly blinking his eyes as the zombies gathered all around him, the newcomers having to check out his edibility factor. Some lost interest quickly when they realized he wasn’t food. A few others lingered, fundamentally knowing that they should be able to eat him but couldn’t.
The zombies approached the truck as Kong stepped down. He held his guns up as the zombies got close. His heart was racing, and he killed two that approached a little too close for comfort. He stopped when they seemed to get the same confused look he had seen with the ones around Al. Again the majority lost interest and left. A few smarter ones lingered. Kong thought maybe they were wondering if they could get around whatever spell was holding them back. He gave them a .45 caliber lead injection against any future inquisitiveness.
He approached Al slowly, constantly looking around to make sure none of the zombies were sneaking up on him. He handed Al his weapon back.
“Let’s go,” Kong said as if nothing had happened.
Al was close to tears. He was leaning over and bringing in heavy breaths as he reached out and grabbed the gun. Standing up straight, he pointed the weapon at Kong. “I should fucking kill you!” he spat.
“Go ahead. I’d fucking deserve it.” Kong turned back to his truck.
The .45 was shaking wildly as Al wrestled within himself against the anger, fear, and betrayal. He eventually followed Kong to the big rig, not saying a word as Kong unlocked the door and let him in.
Dom was inside his truck smoking a cigarette when the duo returned. He got out when he saw Al get down.
“What’s the matter? You look like shit,” Dom said as Al stormed past.
“The vials work,” Kong told him. “Time to get some drivers.”
“Shit,” Dom said, grinding the cigarette under his boot as he realized what had transpired.
CHAPTER ONE
Day one without Talbot
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” Gary kept repeating, as BT shoved him through Mary’s front door.
“Where’s Josh?” Mary screamed, her eyes wide with terror.
“He’s supposed to be here,” BT said, moving to the side so that he could shut the door and look out the curtain.
“He’s not here!” she screamed. “You left him out there!” She was shrieking now.
Gary was still muttering on the floor where BT had deposited him.
“Oh fuck,” BT said silently as he looked through the large, bar-covered picture window of Mary’s modest siege home.
“Where is my son?” she screamed, slamming her fists into BT’s chest.
BT pointed with the tip of his rifle before he headed back towards the front door.
Josh was, at the most, two steps ahead of the lead zombie whose outstretched hand was nearly close enough to touch his collar.
“Oh my God!” Mary said in unison with Gary.
“The fucking toy, he went back for the fucking toy,” BT said as he headed out the front door.
Josh was running for his very existence, but the large remote-control truck he was carrying was impeding his progress. BT did not trust his marksmanship or frayed nerves to start firing at targets so close to a live body, and he couldn’t tell Josh to drop down. BT would be able to get the lead zombie and a couple of others, but there were too many of them. Add to that the real danger that the zombies pursuing him and Gary would completely cut the boy off from the house.