Determined To Live (16 page)

I grin and quietly
speak up, "I'm glad you're not too. You'd make one ugly-ass
woman."

I hear his sharp
intake of breath as he realizes I'd heard him and he was busted. Then
we fall back into silence again, until he suddenly scares the shit
out of me with his loud booming laughter. After awhile I'm unable to
stop myself as I laugh too. I doubt anyone could keep from laughing
when he starts in like this. It's contagious. He helps loosen the
tension and the fear I feel turns to strength. Strength I badly need
right now.

An idea comes to me
and I swing so fast on Larry, that he shrieks and jumps against the
door, his arms pulled up and against his body, fear on his face. That
makes me laugh so hard my eyes gush tears.

"Wha―
What the hell? You screwed in the head or something? You need
medication?"

"Oh
hell, Larry! I haven't laughed this damn hard in...
God
!
I don't even know how long! Thanks. Anyway, do you have a phone,
Larry? Do you? A phone?" I'm so excited until he shakes his head
'
no
'
and drops his head.

Softly, he tells
me, "I'm sorry, Canada. I wish I could help you."

"No big deal.
We'll just have to make sure we beat that asshole to them."

He then goes to
back to work on the rope that is still tied around my wrists, even
though my wrists are no longer tied to each other. When my hands are
finally free of that damn rope, I rub the tender areas and curse Jake
in my head for causing me even more pain. Then I take a quick, but
thorough, look at my passenger.

I
would guess Larry is about five-nine
or six feet tall, maybe 210 pounds. He has brown eyes and hair, which
is getting a bit sparse on top, but on him it works. He's wearing a
set of camo-colored fatigues and boots. I can tell by the laugh lines
on his face and the natural sparkle in his eyes, that he has a great
sense of humor and seems to be a very sweet, gentle, and caring man.

"Do you have
any family, Larry?" I ask him.

He sighs and looks
out his window. Just when I give up on getting an answer, he turns
back to me and says, "A wife. I have a beautiful, wonderful
wife. I don't know if―" Larry lets out a heavy, shaky
breath and drops his head. When he raises it back up, his eyes are
red, his face flushed. I feel my own eyes burning knowing his pain.
Twice now I've lost my husband. The first time I had been positive he
was dead. Now, I don't know what the hell has happened to him. I suck
in and blow out a few breaths of my own.

"I just don't
know. I tried calling her every day. I couldn't leave that damn place
to look for her, though I tried. Those things are everywhere. The
other men refused to let me take one of the trucks to leave, said my
responsibility is to the military, to them, and they would shoot me
if I tried to leave."

"None of the
others would take you to check on her?" I ask.

"No.
They made it clear my wife wasn't their concern. Keeping their own
asses alive, and making sure
their
families were safe, was all they cared about. They had all planned to
go out today to gather their families up. I was told they would check
on my wife
if
they could. But I know they had no intentions to do any such thing. I
overheard a few of the men talking. Said my wife and I are too old,
so it wouldn't matter if anything happened to us, as we wouldn't be
much use in this new world."

"I'm
sorry, Larry. What a bunch of assholes!"
If it had been me, I'd have blown all their asses up to get to my
family.
Or at least I'd like to think so - but of course, but I wasn't in his
position so I can easily say that. Who knows if he even had access to
the weapons? Most likely, they disarmed him and locked away all the
other weapons.

My
conscience refuses to let me be like the others that turned their
backs on this man and his wife.
But
what am I going to do about my family? Jake will kill them all now.
Maybe I can get to a phone and warn them.

Sucking in a deep
breath, I slow the truck just enough to be able to turn around and
head back into Kansas City.

"What are you
doing?" Larry asks as he holds on tight to the dash as I spin
around.

"Where's your
wife?"

"But your
family! And that Jake character! What about them?"

"Where's your
wife, Larry?" I ask him in a low growl.
I'm
pissed because I don't want to be a good person right now. I don't
want to care about anything or anyone but my own family.

He gives me
directions and thanks me half a dozen times until I finally tell him
to shut the hell up. I see a vehicle coming at us up ahead and my gut
twists. We should have gotten of the main highway that goes through
KC and heads north...where my family is. That's what we should have
done, but this right here is exactly what I want to happen. I want
to lead Jake away from my family.

As
Jake and I pass each other, his eyes let me know how much trouble I'm
in. Once he's past me, I hear his tires squeal as he whips around.
Larry freaks out beside me but I tune him out. I have
got
to keep my shit together and my mind focused on this.

"Put your seat
belt on, Larry." I reach over my left shoulder and grab my own,
pulling it across me. Larry grabs hold of the buckle and clicks it
into place for me. I give him a distracted, "Thanks," while
keeping my eyes on the angry lunatic behind me.

I watch as Jake
speeds up and almost hits my bumper before sharply swerving to come
up beside me on my side. He thrusts his finger at me, signaling for
me to pull over. The rage on his face tells me how bad an idea that
will be, if I were to actually do what he wants. Instead, I slam my
foot on the gas and shoot ahead of him. It doesn't take him long to
catch back up. I avoid looking at him, instead focusing on the road
and where his vehicle is.

He swerves toward
me, but I expected him to do that, so I'm ready with my own swerve
away from him. Jake slams on his gas, shooting in front of us. And I
know his next maneuver will be to try to block us.

"Larry! You
said that turn is up here. Where up here, damn it!"

"The next
left!"

Damn! I could
have missed it and we would definitely have been screwed.

"Hold the hell
on!" I scream just before I slam on the brake and make the turn,
tires screaming on the asphalt. "Ok. Where now, Larry? And try
to warn me
before
the turns."

"Six blocks.
Turn right."

Shit! I can't
give Jake six blocks to catch up.

The second road on
the right, I turn as fast as I can and a few blocks down, see an
opportunity to hopefully save our asses. An open, empty garage
connected to a single-story home. I quickly drive into the garage and
scream at Larry to shut the door. He jumps out and hurries to do just
that. It slams to the ground and he runs back to me.

I've opened my door
and am sitting sideways in my seat, my feet dangling above the
ground. On the other side of the door leading inside the house, I can
hear the sounds of undead as they moan, grunt, groan, and beat at the
steel door.

So not in the
mood for this right now.

"Larry,
carefully go peek out the window on the garage door. See if that nut
is around."

Larry nods and goes
back to the door. He watches silently for a few moments and then
tells me he doesn't see him. Relieved, I let myself fall back on the
seat and let out a huge sigh. Larry walks back to me and stands in
front of the open door in front of where I'm lying. When he starts
speaking, I lift my head and look down toward him.

His hands are in
his back pocket and his voice is quiet, uneasy. "Canada, what
happened to your face? Did that man do that to you?"

"Uh huh. No
big deal. I've had so much worse shit happen to me in the last week.
This is nothin'." I let my head flop back down on the seat, sigh
again, then sit up.
I've got
too much crap to do.

"Somehow we
need to get to a phone, get to your house, and get back with my
family - all while avoiding psycho-boy out there. Any ideas?" I
ask Larry.

Larry looks at me
but isn't focused on me, so I know his brain is turning. I don't even
bother trying to come up with something, hoping he will just do the
brain-work for me.

"Well, we
could try cutting through the yards to my house."

Is he for real?

Instead of telling
him how impossible his plan is, I show him with a bit of a tap on his
leg with my cast.

He jumps away and
looks down at my plaster-covered foot. "Oh crap. I'm sorry. I
forgot."

"It's alright.
I try to forget about it too. Damn thing complicates shit a lot,
doesn't it?" As I lean forward to get out of the truck, Larry
grabs hold of my upper arm to help me. I stand and hop to the truck's
middle door, which I open and climb inside onto the floor. I raise
the backseat and start pulling out weapons and ammo, taking stock.
Six handguns and twelve boxes of ammo, two shotguns and six boxes of
ammo, two rifles and six boxes of ammo, one sniper-rifle with two
boxes of ammo, and finally the dozen grenades.

Loading all the
handguns and the two shotguns with ammo, I give half of the weapons
to Larry, then I load up my fatigues with as many guns as I can.

When I look up, I
notice Larry isn't standing outside the Hummer's door anymore. I lean
forward and look around for him, finally spotting him next to the
back door.

"Larry, what
are you doing?" I call out to him, but softly, not wanting to
rile up the undead behind the door again. When I watch him twist the
doorknob and throw it open, I scream a hell of a lot louder.

"Larry! What
the hell!"

He doesn't answer,
as he's too busy hauling ass for the truck. I watch in fear as he
hustles as fast as his butt can go. Sure, he makes it. No problem.
These are the slow ones, after all. I highly doubt he would have done
this if he had known about the faster ones.

I slam my door shut
as he gets into the front seat. We lower our windows and start taking
the rotten things down. I freak out over every shot. The loud bangs
will be easy for Jake to hear, but we have no silencers. I'm a little
pissed off that Larry decided this option without discussing it with
me first, without weighing both pros and cons. But it's a little too
late now.

Finally the last
one out the door returns to its death-state - for good this time -
and we get out of the truck. Larry is grinning at me, proud of
himself. I don't have the heart to inform him Jake is most likely not
that far behind now, so I just give him a glare, but keep my mouth
shut, and hop toward the door of the house. I feel his confusion at
my less-than-excited reaction to his quick-thinking. If only it
hadn't been
such
quick-thinking.

I lean my back
against the wall next to the door and lean over to look inside, ready
to shoot in case of stragglers. Seeing and hearing nothing, I motion
Larry to lead the way. After he goes inside, gun ready, I follow with
all my senses on high-alert. I can't move as well or as fast as he
can, so he "orders" me to sit on a kitchen chair and wait
for him.

Thanks. I
believe I will.

I turn the chair so
that I can see down the hall, and back out to the garage, with just a
quick turn of my head. I can hear Larry as he makes his way through
the downstairs and then the upper floor, clearing each room. Finally,
he comes back and sits in the chair next to me.

"All clear. Do
you want me to see if the phone works?" he asks me.

I nod my head and
watch as he walks to the telephone attached to the wall across the
room. He lifts the receiver and I hold my breath, totally expecting
it to be as dead as the corpses in the garage.

And guess what?

It is.

Larry replaces the
receiver as he shakes his head, then turns to me and apologizes - as
if it's his fault. I pull an envelope that's lying on the table
toward me - a phone disconnect notice which I'd already seen and the
reason I had a good idea the phone wouldn't be working - grab a pen
that's also on the table, and write down my Mom's cell number. I also
write a message.

Mom,

Either a zombie
got me or Jake did. If it's Jake, don't even bother trying to rescue
me. Most likely he's got plenty of weapons and ammo. Much more than
any of you have, so please stay away. If it's a zombie, then
definitely stay away. There's nothing any of you can do.