“Swiss,” came the stage-whisper reply. Now I know why the brain-eating zombies left these two idiots alone.
“Before I make you look like Swiss cheese!” Durgan shouted triumphantly.
I knew I had to act fast, we needed these supplies and we needed this truck. But my time was running short; I was not convinced that Durgan could count as high as three.
“One!” he screamed.
Who the hell was he yelling at, we were twenty feet away. Spindler took off like a shot, out the bay and away from Durgan.
“Pussy,” I sputtered.
“TWO!” Durgan yelled even louder.
Fight or flight, fight or flight, flight or... I stared in amazement as I watched Steroid Freak Number Two try to brush away a speck on his shirt. The laser dot didn’t move and then a second one joined the first. Durgan also had two on him but was slower to realize it.
“Durgan,” Number Two groused. No response. “Durgan!” he bawled.
Durgan turned a little. “What, can’t you see I’m a little busy right now,” he growled.
“Look at my chest, man,” Number Two nearly cried. “Look at yours!”
Both men were painted with two laser sniping dots on their chests. I wasn’t sure where the help was coming from because none of our small party had laser scopes, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I seized on the opportunity.
“I’m not going to give you until three, ‘Big Guy,’” I said condescendingly.
He sneered in reaction to my words.
“Put the guns down now or you’re dead,” I warned softly.
Number Two reacted quicker than Spindler had. He was already halfway back in the truck.
“NOW!” I yelled. Durgan hitched his hand toward the trigger slightly, a murderous intent in his eyes. Finally he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this Mexican standoff.
“This isn’t over!” he bellowed in ferocity. So this is what a pissed off bear looked like. He never did put the gun down, but I wasn’t going to push my luck as they both got back into the truck. “Debbie, drive!” I heard him yell even with the windows closed. It must have been deafening in that enclosed space. I was thankful they had left. I had no desire to detain them.
I let out a sigh of relief as I walked back into the bay to see who my allies were. Alex and Justin were as tense as I was and were just now shouldering their weapons. It was the mischievous grin of Travis, however, that had me laughing like a crazy man. In each of his hands he carried two laser leveling devices.
“Thanks for that,” I said as I went over and clapped Travis on his back.
“No problem,” he answered, but I could see the pride in his eyes.
“Where’s Spindler?” Alex asked.
“He took off at the first sign of trouble,” was my response.
“Spineless, worthless piece of s….” Alex kept saying but he was out of earshot as he was moving away to gather the last bit of his haul.
“All right guys,” I said to Travis and Justin. “Let’s finish up here, I can’t imagine Durgan has many friends he could bring back with him but I don’t want to find out.”
“Right!” Justin was in complete agreement.
Travis nodded, still grinning. He placed the leveling devices in his pockets and went to help Alex and Brendon pull the load into the truck.
Finally we were ready to head for home. I pulled myself up into the cab of the big rig. Alex drove the van up alongside me. Travis was sitting with him, and Justin was with me.
“Are we going to look for Spindler?” Alex asked, looking up at me.
My first response wanted to be ‘Fuck no!’ But that didn’t seem very humanitarian of me. Instead I came out with, “he knows where we’re going, if he has balls enough to come back he’ll meet us there.”
“I guess we’ll never see him again then,” Alex laughed. “Little bandejo!”
I was starting to stress out a little, driving an 18-wheeler had seemed a whole lot easier when I was drunk. Staring at all the knobs and switches and 12-gear stick shift seemed terrifying at the moment. I couldn’t tell everyone they had just wasted two hours of their time for nothing. Sweat broke out on my forehead.
Justin calmly looked over at me. “You don’t know how to drive this thing do you?”
Captain Obvious strikes again. I ground the living shit out of first gear. It smelled like it did when I would blow up my toy models with firecrackers when I was 12; ahhhh, there’s nothing like the smell of burned plastic in the morning! I was paraphrasing from Apocalypse Now. Okay, so I wasn’t doing the movie any justice, but it was helping to calm my nerves. My brain works in mysterious ways. Just ask my wife, she’ll tell you. The truck lurched forward five feet and stalled. I did the same routine three more times. I didn’t have a true reference point but I figured this was what it felt like when those crazy cowboys hopped on one of those mechanical bucking broncos. I was hopping around that seat like I had eaten five cans of Mexican jumping beans. Justin was having a blast, I wasn’t having nearly as much fun. I had only just gotten my stomach completely under control about fifteen minutes previously. Alex waited about fifty feet ahead of us. I wanted to wave him forward, my fear being that I might not be able to stop this behemoth once I got it going. On my fourth attempt I was finally able to get the truck into second. That probably had more to do with the fact that I had burned the first gear completely out rather than any newly attained skill. Thank God, Safeway was only five hundred yards away, as it was it took me all of ten minutes to get there. As there was no way I was going to back this thing into the rear dock, I pulled up to the front doors and did what I did best, I stalled it.
“Well, that was something special to behold,” Alex said as he got out of the van smiling.
Sweat was pouring off me in sheets. Justin had broken a land speed record for carsickness. He puked as soon as he could scramble out of the cab.
“Not so funny now, is it?” I asked.
“Travis is riding home with you,” Justin answered between heaves.
“Okay guys, you know the drill.” I started. “Justin, you stay out here and keep watch. Blast the truck horn if you need us. Alex, Trav, you stay with me while we check this store out.”
CHAPTER 9 
Journal Entry - 9
Justin was wiping his face and getting ready to climb up on the truck hood to get a better vantage point as we entered the store. The smell was….antiseptic. I was in heaven for a second.
“Don’t move!” came the voice from above, someone was using the store’s P.A. system.
We stopped moving.
“We...we don’t want any trouble,” came the anxious voice. I don’t know why he was so panicky, we were the ones being drawn down on, or so I thought. Who could possibly live in this day and age and not arm themselves. I should have known some pacifists would survive Armageddon.
“We don’t want any trouble either,” I responded, not knowing where to direct my voice so I found myself talking to the nearest speaker in the ceiling. “We just want to get some food and get back home.”
“Home,” the disembodied voice said with a whimsical lilt.
“Yeah, we live at the Little Turtle complex and we…” I began and didn’t get a chance to finish.
“Little Turtle!” came the excited reply. “My aunt lives… lived there.”
“That’s great!” I was beginning to feel like we could connect.
“Yeah, yeah, Jane, Jane Deneaux,” he added eagerly.
My hopes sank. If the nephew was a tenth like the aunt we were dead where we stood.