Authors: C. M. Wright
Ernie's bullet was just inside the last layer of skin on his back, almost making it through, which was a relief, but we still have the added worry of all the blood he had lost, and we don't know if the bullet had damaged anything inside that could potentially kill him.
Nick disinfected them both, wrapped Bert's arm, and repacked Ernie's stomach. He also was able to give them some painkillers from the survival pack he keeps with him. I encouraged Nick to take some too, but he refused, wanting to be able to help me if I needed him.
And I did. Several times.
I had to stop often for bottled water, food, and bathroom breaks, which Nick helped with...well, all but helping Bert to the bathroom.
Bert's bladder must be incredibly small, that's all I have to say.
But the time I was most grateful for Nick being drug-free, was when we had stopped for yet another bathroom break –
Again,
for
Bert!
–
and as I was helping Bert back to the truck, another truck squealed
its tires as it pulled into the parking lot, sliding to a stop right in front of us. The parking lot of the truck-stop was full of vehicles, and a few zombies, but they were stuck inside their trucks. The rest of the living, or
living-dead
, must have moved on long ago.
I can only assume that since the parking lot was so full, the truck's occupants, who are now directly in front of us and blocking our way, must not have seen Nick and Ernie waiting on us in our own truck, as they never paid them any attention. The big black truck had three men inside, men who were up to no damn good.
It was obvious their intentions were evil just from the big stupid cocky grins on their faces. What the driver leaned out to say confirmed my first impression.
“
Well, well. Look what we have here, boys. Coupla ladies who look like they need some big strong fellas to protect them.” The driver's lip curled as he sneered at us. Then he pointed a gun out the window in our direction and said, “
But
...we ain't got no use for old broads.”
I pushed Bert behind me and the driver opened his door. He stepped out of the truck and brought his gun up again, but before he could voice whatever snide comment he planned to let out of his open mouth, a shot rang out. His body jerked once, then crashed to the ground. I pulled Bert behind a nearby car so that we didn't get hit in the crossfire, and watched as the other two died where they sat.
Not long after, Nick ran over to us to help me get Bert back to the truck. But as we passed the driver, his hand shot out and grabbed hold of my nightgown –
yes, I'm still wearing the damn thing!
I tried stomping on his head, but ballerina slippers just won't do much damage. When he came much too close to taking a bite out of my foot, Nick finished him with a bullet to the brain.
Before we could even sigh with relief, the other two men in the truck started moaning and moving around. Then the moans became more than the two lone men could produce. We looked up, and around, to see many more undead heading straight for us.
We ran to our truck and made it in plenty of time to get inside and get moving, before the majority of the undead converged on the truck-stop. Bert was the most upset – well, Ernie was pretty upset too. He's still blaming himself for not being able to protect his wife, bullet-hole in the stomach and all.
Bert sobbed and said to us, “I just don't understand. We, the
living
, are less in numbers than the zombies,” –
this is not a confirmed fact, but it sure as hell seems like it –
“
yet we have people still wanting to kill and harm each other. What is
wrong
with some people? We should be fighting together
against
the zombies, not
helping
them!”
Ernie held her close and responded, “I know, Mama. I know. But most criminals and sinners aren't going to change just because something like this happens. Some people just enjoy being bad, and they'll take advantage of any situation that gives them the freedom to wreak havoc on the world.”
I just kept my mouth shut. No one here knows what I did back in Missouri to the rednecks. And I'm damn sure not going to enlighten them. But yes, I am definitely feeling some guilt.
So now we're stopped on the side of the interstate just after crossing into Missouri.
As I said before, I really never expected to get this far – to make it back to this state again. And not because of the truck stop incident just a few miles back, or even because of the zombies. It was because of Jake. I expected him to have found and killed me.
Hell
! To be honest, I really expected to die not long after Jake kidnapped me.
I just plain expected to die, in one way or another, by Jake's hands.
Have I made it to my family yet? No. Not even close. Could he still kill me if he's still alive? You and I both know he could.
And now, thanks to that little bit of something to look forward to, I'm no longer overwhelmed by relief and happiness. I'm just ready to get the hell out of here and as far from Jake, whether he be dead or undead, as I can get.
I quickly start the truck and pull back on the road. We have
at least
six hours until we reach my sister's, and that's only if we aren't having to detour much. I send a quick, but sincere, prayer upwards that the rest of the trip is smooth and uneventful.
Ha ha.
Yeah, right.
The first couple of hours, no big deal. Stopped for more food, water, and bathroom breaks. Nick drove for a while so I could rest. And, of course, we killed a few more zombies.
You see? No big deal.
Okay, whoa. Wait.
Killing zombies is now “no big deal”? I must be more exhausted than I thought. I'm sorry. It was a
big
d– No!
It was a
huge
deal.
Aw, I can't lie. It really
has
become no big deal.
But when we stop in some random small town for the thousandth time –
sure as hell seems like it
–
to take Bert to the bathroom –
once again
–
Nick and I agree to switch seats and let me drive for a while.
It's not easy to drive when people walk out in front of you all the damn time. You thought the random deer was bad...ha! Try zombies.
So once we get Bert back inside the truck, I drive around the small town looking for a gas pump. On the edge of town, I pull in to an old parking lot, which is littered with some major potholes. The station and pump look ancient, and I can only pray that they still work. There are some zombies roaming around the lot, so Nick and I shoot them before I proceed to pull in front of the pump.
Yes, pump...a
single
pump.
It's on Nick's side, so he agrees to do fill the tank. I volunteer to go inside the station to turn the pump on, while he keeps watch out here. The sun is going down, and it's going to get a lot trickier to survive in the dark. It always is.
I reach the door with no problems, and pause to look through the glass to see what's waiting for me.
Nothing.
I slowly pull the door open and step inside. My gun is ready of course, and my heart is pounding like hell. I fully expect an undead to walk out from one of the back rooms, or from behind one of the shelves, or even to be hiding behind the counter as if they have the capability to think of hiding.
But the only thing I see is a zombie lying on the ground with a bullet-hole in its head, so I go behind the counter and find the switch to turn the pump on. Pushing the button, I watch out the window until Nick gives me a thumbs up that it's working. I then turn to go back around the counter, and with no warning, I'm hit with so much force, that I swear I bounce when my back and ass make contact with the tile that had once been under my feet.
My gun clatters across the floor when I fall, and I frantically scramble towards it. But hands reach down and grab my leg, pulling me back. I look behind me as I scream and prepare for the teeth to sink into my leg, until I get a good look at the person behind me.
“
No!” I scream even louder.
He's barely alive- and I honestly believe, at this point, that he's more zombie than human. But he can still speak. He says my name, “Can-ah-dah.”
“
Give me ma sho-ot, Can-ah-dah.”
His words come out as moans, but he is clearly speaking to me.
I'm terrified. I can't respond to him, I can't even breathe very well. Jake is here,
right
here
in front of me. Half man, half zombie.
He's so strong, I can't even pull my leg out of his grasp. I kick him, and he grunts from the pain of it, but his grip doesn't let up one bit. I watch as his eyes start to dull even more, then focus on my bare leg. Drool begins to leave his mouth in long trails. I scream again as he starts to lower his head toward my flesh, and my efforts to get away from him increase in intensity.
Just as I feel his hot breath on my leg, Nick appears behind him. He jams a syringe into Jake's neck, then shoves him to the side. Jake doesn't release my leg, instead he gives it a hard yank towards his face. Nick grabs a baseball bat that's lying under the counter and gives Jake a nice whack on the head. Jake's hands relax, and I jerk my leg away before scrambling to my feet.
“
Kill him, Nick! For god's sake,
kill
him!” I scream at him, but he grabs my arms and pushes me against the wall.
“
Canada, listen to me. We can't kill him, remember? We need him. He's the only one who knows what the antidote is. I just hope he isn't so far gone that we can't bring him back.”
I shake my head no, sobbing and pleading with Nick.
I know he's right, but Jake is the one person who terrifies me even more than the zombies. I can pretend to be a badass all I want, and I can convince myself I really am, up until I see his face. Hell, even just hearing his voice sends me into an intense mind-numbing panic.
Nick forces me to sit against the wall, and I do, although my body trembles with the intensity of my fear. I become nervous–
No. Scratch that. –
I'm just downright freaking terrified when Nick leaves me and walks behind one of the shelves out in the customer area of the station.
I lock my eyes on Jake, ready to run at the first twitch he might make. Soon, Nick comes back carrying a package of rope and ties Jake's hands behind his back, then takes the leftover rope and leaving it uncut, ties his ankles so that any movement of his feet will pull his arms into a very uncomfortable position. It'll do the same to his legs if he tries to move his arms.
Finally, Nick drags him to the door and I wait inside, my gun trained on Jake, until Nick comes back with the truck. After helping Nick load Jake into the bed of the truck, I keep an eye out for any approaching trouble while Nick ties our captive securely in the back.
“
Get me one of the blankets, Canada.”
I grab one out of the cab of the truck, ignoring Ernie and Bert's questions for now. Nick covers Jake, then jumps out of the truck and pulls me a few feet away so we can talk.
“
Are you okay?” he asks me, his face showing his very real concern for me.
I nod and he gives me a brief hug. “I won't leave you alone with him. I promise. I'll keep you safe, Canada. I swear.”
I know he means well, and truly believes he can keep his promises, but Jake always seems to keep one step ahead. Always.
I just give Nick a halfhearted smile and nod. We make our way back to the truck and I agree to drive so Nick can keep an eye on Jake. I also let him explain however much he wants the older couple to know about the situation. To my surprise, he tells them everything: that Jake is part zombie, that he is the only one we are aware of that knows the antidote – which is the
only
reason, but a very important reason, we must keep him alive.
The older couple show varying degrees of surprise, but in the end, they seem to accept it pretty well. I know Ernie has to be furious that the man who shot him and his wife is right here in the same vehicle with him, but for the sake of keeping mankind alive and well, he has no choice but to leave him alone. Bert
should
seem scared or angry, but she just isn't. She actually seems a little too pleasant about the whole thing.
“
Bert? You okay?” I ask her, taking a quick look at her from the corner of my eye.
“
What? Oh yes, dear, I'm just fine. It's such a lovely day, isn't it?”
I turn my head and give her a much better look when I hear the dreamlike tone to her voice. Maybe the pain pills Nick gave her are working just a little too well, since she's obviously in a much better time and place than the rest of us are at the moment. The grin on her face is much too big, she's humming a pleasant little tune, and she's even doing a little butt-wiggle dancing in her seat.
I just nod and turn my attention back to the road.
No use arguing with the lady.
We drive for hours, passing other moving vehicles every once in a while. It's completely dark now, and there's no way in hell I intend to stop for anyone, especially not knowing if they're alive or a zombie – and if they
are
alive, exactly what their intentions might be.
We've had way too much drama and trauma for one day, thank you very much!