Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage by Richard Brown Page A

forever.”
    “That reminds me,” I whispered. “When you left Ted’s this morning, did you go down the street where I wrecked my grandma’s Buick?” Robinson nodded. “Were the bodies still out in the road?”
    “The dead ones. Of course. Why?”
    “Because most were gone when we went through around lunchtime.”
    “What do you mean … gone?”
    “As in, they weren’t there anymore. Gone. And the remaining ones, around six I believe, had been eaten.”
    “That’s … odd.”
    “I thought so too. But I think I know what happened to them. I should say, I know I know.”
    “What?”
    When the infected die, I wanted to say, they don’t stay dead. But I didn’t get the chance.
    Ted spoke over the radio. “Robinson, come in!”
    Robinson unclipped the radio from his belt and held the talk button. “What’s up?”
    Ted took an uncomfortable second or two to reply. “We’ve got a problem,” he said, his voice wavering. The radio picked up a good amount of unintelligible background noise.
    “What’s wrong?” Robinson asked.
    “They found us! Come quick!”
    There was nothing more Ted needed to say. Robinson and I stood up in a flash and began running back the way we’d come. Far ahead of us, the sound of gunfire suddenly rang out, disturbing the otherwise quiet night.

 
    “Behind us,” I said.
    Robinson broke stride to glance back. A dozen or more infected left the interstate, drawn by the gunfire, and began running after us.
    “Don’t worry about them,” Robinson said, breathing heavily. “Worry about running.”
    But I was worried about them. Couldn’t help it. They were gaining on us with every step. If we didn’t pick up the pace, by the time we made it back to the cars they’d be right behind us, clawing at our backs. But I was more worried about Robinson. I was confident I could run faster, fast enough anyway, but I had my doubts about him. We had only made it as far as the police cars, and already his pace was slowing. We still had to twist our way through the maze of military vehicles.
    I looked behind me again. Even more infected. With each gunshot, new members joined the pack.
    “Where are you?” Ted yelled through the radio secured to Robinson’s hip. “We can’t hold them off much longer!”
    The little speaker on the walkie crackled with each gunshot, and I swore I heard shouting in the background. I prayed Peaches and Olivia were at least inside one of the SUV’s.
    Robinson snatched the radio off his belt, fumbling it in his hands as he felt around for the talk button. His pace slowed even further, slowing me down with him. No matter what, I wouldn’t leave him behind.
    “Hold on,” Robinson said into the receiver. “We’re almost there.”
    But we weren’t almost there, and Robinson had to know it too, despite what he had told Ted. At our current dwindling pace, we were still a good thirty seconds out, and the infected hot on our heels were forty and gaining.
    “We can’t do this,” I said. “We’re just leading them to the group. We’ll get everyone killed.”
    “We don’t have enough rounds to hold them off by ourselves.”
    We slid out of sight between two humvees. “We need to hide. Now’s our chance.”
    “They’ll see us here, Jimmy,” Robinson said.
    “Not here. There.” I pointed at a large supply truck off to the right.
    Behind us, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. We had less than ten seconds until they’d come around the corner, securing us back into their sights, most likely for good.
    Thankfully, Robinson had been saving up one last burst of energy, enough to sprint for the back of the supply truck and hoist himself into the bed. I helped pull him in and under a thick green cloth normally used to cover supplies, now for the purpose of covering us .
    Had we made it in time, or had they seen us?
    We’d find out in three … two … one.
    We held our heads down, the cloth tight against the backs of our heads, and listened as