As we drove straight through them and flew off the ramp, we must have dropped three or four feet, but it felt like we fell off a building. Temporarily losing control, I drove through a bush, and then straight through another one of the zombies.
As I pulled my shit together, I switched gears, and properly straightened out the wheel. I accelerated forward and rapidly passed the small mob of the undead surrounding the boat. They began following, but were far too slow to catch us.
Luckily, the road we were on was paved. It was an access road of some sort, with no real houses or buildings around us. We might have been in New Jersey, but no telling where exactly.
That was when Kyle started to mess around with the buttons on the dashboard. At first, I thought he was trying to turn on the radio, until he flipped a button that said “NAV” on it. The built-in navigation system came to life.
It sure beat the hell out of a map. It told us everything, including where there were stoplights and gas stations. A-shame it didn’t have a built in zombie detector.
Chapter 8
Time to live off the land, or die trying.
After learning that we were, in fact, in New Jersey, and fairly close to where I-95 met I-278, we decided that we needed to stay away from the highways. Aside from being totally overrun with the dead, there was really no getting through the parking lot of cars and trucks that now filled both of the metropolitan throughways.
Back roads were the only real option.
After packing their most valuable possessions, the whole world seemed to have jumped in their cars and hit the roads. Everybody had someplace else, or someplace they thought would be safer to go. As we exited the access road, we came across a filling station that had a hand painted sign on a white tarp that read:
“$20 per Gallon!”
This was crossed out with a big red X. Below it, someone had added:
“GAS GONE!”
We drove by slowly hoping to see if there were any supplies inside, but it was obviously completely cleaned out.
As of now, there was a lack of zombies. Perhaps most of them were attracted to the boat crash, clearing the way for us. Perhaps it was something else.
Either way, Kyle and I were taking the moment of calm to strategize.
We knew we needed the basics: food and water. I had seen someplace that the average man would die after approximately a week without water. According to Kyle, symptoms of dehydration included nausea, dry mouth and muscle cramps.
Those were also the symptoms of fighting off zombies, I thought sarcastically. In extreme circumstances, confusion and weakness set in before a coma or full organ failure. We were both coming up on almost two full days without anything to drink. My mouth was beyond dry.
Kyle explained that, based on the Urban Warfare training he took while in the army, the most effective tactic to resupply was basically to loot and steal. Otherwise known as living off of the urban landscape, he joked. We needed to find stores that still had supplies like food, water and most importantly, weapons.
We weren’t willing to stop just anywhere. The Hummer provided a certain level of protection, and while we were not exactly surrounded at the moment, we felt a hell of a lot more comfortable with the windows up, and the doors locked.
The streets were still relatively bare. No people, no zombies, and no movement other than a few tree limbs that were swaying in the wind. The few remaining vehicles were abandoned. The area looked more like the type of pit-stop town where travelers would fill up with gas, and then quickly move on. I lived in one of these towns growing up. They always had a few gas stations, some fast food joints and townfolk who were less than friendly when it came to strangers.
I noticed a car that had crashed into a tree down the road a bit. It appeared to be filled to the brim with stuff. As we eased up next to it, we came to a stop. In mutual agreement, we both stepped out of the Hummer; leaving the engine running.
It would be a hell of a lot easier to find supplies that someone has left behind than to go searching for them inside various stores. Maybe this was a lucky break.
I could hear some noise coming from inside the car. I motioned to Kyle to listen. With a small nod, he cocked his head a little, listening intently. We both approached from different sides. As I cautiously peered through the cracked window on the driver side door, I could see it.
A woman, now turned into the dead, was in the front seat. Not noticing us, she was content eating away at some poor bastard that had clearly been in the passenger seat. As best as I could tell, they had hit the tree, and she probably died immediately. After she turned, she must have set her sights on the unconscious person next to her. Husband, boyfriend, just plain old friend, it didn’t matter; now, he was nothing more than lunch.
Kyle came over to the driver side door where I was standing. He tapped the door with his metal rod. The creature quickly turned those horrible eyes on us, but it was strapped into the seat belt. She didn’t possess the IQ to figure out how to unbuckle it.
Kyle made short work of her, smashing his rod sideways across her face. I could see shards of broken teeth shoot across the dashboard.
I opened the back door as Kyle started to sift through the bags that were strapped to the top of the vehicle. I was actually amazed by all the crap this person packed up.
We found a DVD player, a dozen DVDs and a whole slew of personal hygiene products including shampoos, conditioners, gels and cosmetics bags galore. The rest of the bags were filled with clothing. This person had packed for vacation, not for fleeing from the zombie apocalypse.
Her vanity did lead to one good thing. We found a cooler full of healthy snack bars and bottled water. Kyle also came across one bag with guy’s clothing in it. He grabbed a change of clothes to replace his blood soaked security uniform, and dumped out the rest so he could keep the backpack.
I could see the relief on his face when he had finally changed. He didn’t have to say it, but I could tell that he really hated that uniform. It was one step higher than a mall-cop uniform, and it was a small step at that.
We walked back to the Hummer, and crawled up into the seats. We repeated the scavenging drill over the next few vehicles we came upon. Luckily, there were several that possessed various types of food and supplies that were actually useful.
We finished our search with having gathered 14 bottles of water and a backpack full of snack bars, chips, and cookies. We also grabbed one radio that was crank operated, a plus for us as it did not require batteries or electricity. The last car we had hit was the best. Some campers or survivalist had left backpacks, sleeping bags, and most importantly, a portable solar panel charger. It flipped open to expose three black panels, and was designed to charge small electronic devices including cellphones. I snatched it up with some relief, knowing that it would be useful considering my phone battery was completely dead.
The owners themselves, were nowhere in sight. I wondered if the woman with the ponytail back at the ferry owned this stuff. No way that I would ever know, but I silently thanked her anyway.
I had just plugged my phone into the solar panel charger, got it set up on the dashboard to collect those precious beams of sunlight when Kyle tapped my arm.
“What scares you?” he asked quietly.
“What?” I responded in bewilderment, my brow cocked.
“I mean, before all of this, what kept you up at night? What really gets under your skin?”
“I don’t know,” I replied with a shrug. “I guess, I just always thought about my job. Losing my job, getting promoted. I didn’t give anything else a chance.”