“Saw it since we rested by the trucks.”
“You didn’t think to say anything?”
“Why?”
Fair enough answer, I suppose. I just couldn’t figure out how I spent the entire day missing the giant monolith. Ahead, I saw more zombies. We were going to have to take another way and cut through the trees. It was going to be a mile through woods, fences and a neighborhood. With zombies in tow, and others ahead, this was not going to be an easy endeavor.
“You ready?”
“I was born ready,” he answered proudly. Then, as an aside, he asked. “Ready for what?”
“Let’s go get some water.”
“Great, because for some reason I’m thirsty as all get out.”
“Can’t imagine why,” I told him as we started off with a slight jog.
Then, what I feared even more than the zombies reared its ugly head. Entering the trees, I heard the howlers in the forest in the distance. Seems we were coming into their time zone.
“This oughtta be rich,” I said aloud.
Jack Walker — Signs
Farther down the road, I see several of the slower zombies shuffling aimlessly next to a semi-trailer with its rear door open. Ensuring they are my only company, I raise my carbine. There’s really no other way around as I’m still not overly fond of finding out what the woods to either side holds. There’s only three that I can see, so it shouldn’t be too difficult making my way through them. I still have a few mags, but those can disappear in a hurry.
Using a car for support, I steady my aim and fire; the suppressed round barely heard. The scalp of one lifts from the impact of my bullet to the side of its head and the shambling figure drops straight to the pavement. The other two turn toward the one that fell, perhaps drawn by the sound of its body hitting the ground. They then continue their slow meanderings. I fire twice more, causing them to join their compadre in whatever afterlife zombies go to.
The slight gusts of wind bring the smell of smoke. Checking to see that all is still clear, I notice the dark plume of smoke rising in the distance where the cars are still presumably burning. Far into the distance, the smudge of smoke from the burning city is still faintly visible.
I cautiously slink up to the semi where the shamblers were skulking about. Drawing nearer, I notice numerous holes in the doors of the trailer. From the shape and pattern, it’s pretty obvious that someone was shooting out from within the tractor trailer. From a couple of cars away, through a gap, I see two bodies on the pavement near the truck. I check quickly on the three I just took down to ensure they stay that way and aren’t about to rise up to take a bite out of me. I’m assuming that’s what they do, but hell, I’m not positive of anything in this place. For all I know, they had jobs and went zip-lining on the weekends. The three aren’t moving and have presumably settled in for their long winter’s night.
This is the case with the two other bodies as well; a man and a woman who appear relatively young. Of course, most everyone appears relatively young to me. Blood and gore cover the dark gray of the asphalt. The bodies are both badly mauled and it looks to have happened recently. The man is holding a handgun with several shell casings scattered nearby, which leads me to believe they weren’t these zombie-like creatures, although I guess the spent cartridges could have been from someone else defending themselves. The bullet holes in the door certainly show that someone was shooting a lot.
Stepping around the intervening vehicles, with silence all around, I see other bodies lying on the pavement. Most are at the rear of the semi with a couple lying near one side. Bullet holes appear along the side of the trailer as well. Someone definitely fought a battle here and, from initial appearances, they defended themselves from inside the enclosed trailer.
Looking closer at the other bodies, my heart stops and my breath catches. I most certainly recognize what these are. The red mottled skin is definitely that of a night runner left out in the daylight. The mauled bodies of the two become clear. They were caught in the open by night runners.
Fucking great! Night runners and these zombie-like creatures! Now my day is complete! What the fuck have I stepped into?
That still doesn’t explain the multitude of holes in the trailer. The patterns show automatic fire, but I don’t see a weapon like that lying about. It could have been from a different time, but the freshness of the bodies indicates that whatever happened did so within the last day or two. And the wounds on the night runners are consistent with the gunfire from the truck.
Looking in the truck, I notice several bags of opened Phrito’s lying on the floor. An unmistakable odor of gunpowder lingers within. Just underneath, there is another scent. At first it’s hard to identify, but then, like a flash, I know what it is. Someone had been enjoying one of nature’s herbs. At least I still retain a semblance of the ability to pick up faint scents. I hope the ability to see in the dark is still there.
Shell casings litter the bed of the trailer. I climb inside to search for a weapon and/or additional bodies. The casings are definitely 5.56mm. It would be nice to find a small cache of them as you can never have enough ammo.
Pencil beams of light stream into the trailer from the holes along one side. The indentions of the bullet holes show that they were created from inside. Searching quickly, I only find more open Phrito bags and a couple of roaches left from whoever was enjoying their little respite. Having partaken, the Phrito’s must have made whoever was here feel like they were in heaven. I stare at the bodies surrounding the trailer, the bullet holes, and the remains of an interrupted pot party. Yeah, there must have been an interesting story here.
Not finding a secret cache of ammo, I hop out of the gunpowder, Phrito, and pot-infused trailer. The dark smoke is still rising in the distance from the burning cars. I’m hoping I’ve gained some distance between myself and the mass of zombies that were heading this direction. I’m also hoping the way ahead is clear, as I’m not overly fond of being trapped, but what choice do I really have. I don’t understand this place, but staying alive is the only way I’ll be able to figure it out. Hopefully, there is a roadside sign or flashing beacon that will point out what in the fuck is going on. I’d like nothing better than to know where my kids are and how to exit this place. With nothing else to find, I continue on my walkabout.
The road plows forward with no end in sight. It has a couple of turns, but it is straight for the most part. There aren’t any signs, mileposts, ramps, or openings. The wrappers and shell casings are the only evidence that someone else is around and it’s my hope that, if I manage to find them, they can shed some light on what is going on. Until then, it’s stay alive and try to figure this out. Hopefully, I’ll just wake up and chalk this up to a bad dream. I don’t even want to think of the alternative. My heart aches for my kids and Lynn.
The snarl of vehicles is relentless. There are a few semis and motor homes that limit my view but, for as far as I can see, the massive traffic jam continues. I make my way through, having to slide over and around the vehicles. I’m wary of the ones I can’t see into and give them as wide a berth as possible without venturing too close to the neighboring trees. Every once in a while, I spot a Phrito wrapper caught against the wheel of a car, and once, I spot another almost-finished joint on the ground. I’m at least following the one, or however many, that left the truck and, from all appearances, he, she, or they are enjoying their stroll.
The farther I get, the more the cars become entangled. The avenue, with the center stripe running down the middle, is no longer an open aisle, which slows my progress. There are more than a few accidents where vehicles collided; either hitting each other in the mass exodus or while trying to clear a way through.