with Jake as the Jeep took yet another sharp turnoff.
“We’re almost there Ben. Hang in there,” Zack said over the radio. Yeah, simple he said. No problem, he said, Ben thought as sweat poured into his eyes. They sped past a burning Volkswagen crammed full of people. Ben couldn’t tell if they were alive or not and decided he didn’t want to know. The Jeep took another corner, pitching right as Jake turned left. Mike had begun to moan again, but this time it was not the sound of the dying. It was the sound of the dead. He struggled clumsily against the seat belt and snapped his teeth, over and over, craning his neck towards Ben as far as the sleeping bag would allow. Tears clouded Ben’s vision. He swiped one hand across his face, rubbing sweat into his eyes. This is hell, he thought. I died three days ago and now I’m in hell.
He jumped a curb and fishtailed the truck around as he followed Jake back onto Main Street. He could see the edge of town now and he risked another glance in the rearview mirror. The street behind was littered with vehicles, some burning, some turned over. In grassy lawns on either side he could see zombies wandering aimlessly, searching for fresh meat. Almost there, he thought. Ben noticed even the voice in his head sounded panicked. He hit the accelerator and brought the truck closer to Jake’s bumper. They were driving fast now, and he wanted to get the hell out of this place and this truck. That’s when it suddenly dawned on him: they should have listened to Kasey.
The houses were thinning as they left the city limits. Jake whipped the Jeep to the right and drove straight through a yard, knocking over a couple of garbage cans and a yard gnome. Ben pulled to the curb and stopped. He watched as Jake and Pete both ran over to the house, which he assumed was Peter’s. The older man fished in his pocket and found what looked to be keys. He unlocked the door and they both ran inside, Jake in the lead with his rifle raised.
Ben’s head throbbed and his eyes stung. He thought he would go mad listening to the thing that had been Mike sitting beside him. The sound of Ben’s breathing was harsh, and his teeth felt like they were going numb. I’m hyperventilating , he thought. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. He couldn’t see any movement from within the house, and couldn’t hear anything over the noise Mike was making. Just as he was about to either grab the mic and scream into the radio, or grab his pistol and blow Mike’s head off, Jake burst out of the open doorway.
He ran across the yard, tripping once and falling to his knees, then scrambled back to his feet and rushed around the front of the Jeep. Ben watched the open front door, but there was no sign of Pete. He caught a red flash out of the corner of his eye and realized Jake was speeding away. Mike’s moans thumped through his head as Ben began succumbing to mind-numbing exhaustion. He shifted the truck into gear and pulled out, leaving Pete’s house behind. All else he blocked out; the thought of leaving a man behind, the sight of car after car left abandoned or burning, the ever-increasing numbers of living dead.
He drove this way for miles, on auto-pilot; the only thing guiding him was the bright yellow rear end of the Jeep ahead. Jake called over and over on the radio, but all Ben heard was muffled words, like he was listening to someone talk through a sock. Bright red lights in front of him signaled his foot to brake. Zack and Kyra opened his door and unfastened his seat belt, then pulled him gently from the truck. Kyra led him to the passenger side of the Jeep and helped him in next to Jake. She shut the door and gave a thumbs-up to Zack, who had already climbed in behind the wheel of the truck. The last thing he remembered, and vaguely at that, was Nancy reaching from behind and squeezing his shoulder, telling him everything would be okay.
* * *
They drove until dusk. Kyra kept a watchful eye on the map.
“We’re almost there Ben. Hang in there,” Zack said over the radio. Yeah, simple he said. No problem, he said, Ben thought as sweat poured into his eyes. They sped past a burning Volkswagen crammed full of people. Ben couldn’t tell if they were alive or not and decided he didn’t want to know. The Jeep took another corner, pitching right as Jake turned left. Mike had begun to moan again, but this time it was not the sound of the dying. It was the sound of the dead. He struggled clumsily against the seat belt and snapped his teeth, over and over, craning his neck towards Ben as far as the sleeping bag would allow. Tears clouded Ben’s vision. He swiped one hand across his face, rubbing sweat into his eyes. This is hell, he thought. I died three days ago and now I’m in hell.
He jumped a curb and fishtailed the truck around as he followed Jake back onto Main Street. He could see the edge of town now and he risked another glance in the rearview mirror. The street behind was littered with vehicles, some burning, some turned over. In grassy lawns on either side he could see zombies wandering aimlessly, searching for fresh meat. Almost there, he thought. Ben noticed even the voice in his head sounded panicked. He hit the accelerator and brought the truck closer to Jake’s bumper. They were driving fast now, and he wanted to get the hell out of this place and this truck. That’s when it suddenly dawned on him: they should have listened to Kasey.
The houses were thinning as they left the city limits. Jake whipped the Jeep to the right and drove straight through a yard, knocking over a couple of garbage cans and a yard gnome. Ben pulled to the curb and stopped. He watched as Jake and Pete both ran over to the house, which he assumed was Peter’s. The older man fished in his pocket and found what looked to be keys. He unlocked the door and they both ran inside, Jake in the lead with his rifle raised.
Ben’s head throbbed and his eyes stung. He thought he would go mad listening to the thing that had been Mike sitting beside him. The sound of Ben’s breathing was harsh, and his teeth felt like they were going numb. I’m hyperventilating , he thought. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. He couldn’t see any movement from within the house, and couldn’t hear anything over the noise Mike was making. Just as he was about to either grab the mic and scream into the radio, or grab his pistol and blow Mike’s head off, Jake burst out of the open doorway.
He ran across the yard, tripping once and falling to his knees, then scrambled back to his feet and rushed around the front of the Jeep. Ben watched the open front door, but there was no sign of Pete. He caught a red flash out of the corner of his eye and realized Jake was speeding away. Mike’s moans thumped through his head as Ben began succumbing to mind-numbing exhaustion. He shifted the truck into gear and pulled out, leaving Pete’s house behind. All else he blocked out; the thought of leaving a man behind, the sight of car after car left abandoned or burning, the ever-increasing numbers of living dead.
He drove this way for miles, on auto-pilot; the only thing guiding him was the bright yellow rear end of the Jeep ahead. Jake called over and over on the radio, but all Ben heard was muffled words, like he was listening to someone talk through a sock. Bright red lights in front of him signaled his foot to brake. Zack and Kyra opened his door and unfastened his seat belt, then pulled him gently from the truck. Kyra led him to the passenger side of the Jeep and helped him in next to Jake. She shut the door and gave a thumbs-up to Zack, who had already climbed in behind the wheel of the truck. The last thing he remembered, and vaguely at that, was Nancy reaching from behind and squeezing his shoulder, telling him everything would be okay.
* * *
They drove until dusk. Kyra kept a watchful eye on the map.
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