infected at a distance.
I took the .22, and one of the partial bottles of alcohol--about three fingers worth of Captain Morgan. Jen took my laptop, the shotgun, all of our empty water containers in a garbage bag, a box of ammunition for each of us, and the Southern Comfort--still 3/4 full.
I drove the minivan, and Jen followed behind me in the pickup. I kept glancing back at her in the mirror. She had a red bandana tied around her nose and mouth and she looked like a gangsta or maybe a bandit from one of those old westerns. I could see the shotgun propped up in the seat beside her. I was so relieved to have her back. I couldn't say if it was her that I was happy to have around or if I was just glad I wasn't alone.
I adjusted my own mask. I still didn't know if the masks worked, but we could find out about that when we got online at the museum. It would be good if we could find out about the necessary amount of alcohol. Hopefully we wouldn't need to get drunk every time we had an interaction with the infected.
Even though it was a longer route to the museum, I took Bragusberg Road again. Gala Road would have taken us to Clayfield, too, but I didn't know if we'd encounter any wrecked or abandoned cars that way that would block our path. Our last drive down Bragusberg Road had been clear, and I didn't want to stop until we got to the museum.
I took it slow. I wanted to check out the houses on our way into town. The infected were out, and there were a lot of them. I made a mental note of every house where I saw them. It didn't mean those houses were abandoned, but it was a good (bad) sign.
The disease seemed to affect them in different ways. Some of the people were quite spry but others were almost catatonic. I noticed a few with bad injuries, but they didn't act bothered by them.
I would see them in yards and fields. Some would run out to the road as we passed and chase us. At one point, we had a small crowd behind us, like we were the press vehicles in a televised marathon. Jen was getting nervous about it. A couple of times it looked like one of our pursuers almost caught up to her, but I don't think there was any real danger of that. We were going slowly, but fast enough to stay ahead of them.
When we got on an open, straight stretch of road, she sped up and pulled alongside me on my left. She couldn't roll her passenger side window down because it was the manual kind of window, so instead of yelling at me, she gave me a dirty look, flipped me the bird and motioned for me to get a move on. I grinned as she dropped back behind me. After that, we drove 60 mph until we got in the city limits and left the crowd of infected in the road between two cornfields.
CHAPTER 13
There was a lot of smoke over Clayfield. It looked like fires were still burning on the west side of town. My house was out that way, and I was curious whether it was still standing. I would check on it later, but at that time, we needed to get into the museum without attracting too much attention. It didn't look like that was going to be possible.
As Bragusberg Road enters the city limits, it is lined with large trees and old, but restored, Victorian and Shingle Style houses. I could see people out on the front lawns of some of the homes. They were interested in us, but only a few followed. One particular blue house was surrounded on all sides by at least a hundred people. Most stood, staring up at the second floor, but there were some that were trying, and failing, to climb up the side.
Bragusberg Road ended, and I took a right onto 6th street, headed north. As I approached the court square, my stomach knotted up.
They were everywhere. The only other time of year I saw so many people in the streets was in October during the town's Pumpkin Festival.
The south side of the square was so thick with people, it would be impassable. I
I took the .22, and one of the partial bottles of alcohol--about three fingers worth of Captain Morgan. Jen took my laptop, the shotgun, all of our empty water containers in a garbage bag, a box of ammunition for each of us, and the Southern Comfort--still 3/4 full.
I drove the minivan, and Jen followed behind me in the pickup. I kept glancing back at her in the mirror. She had a red bandana tied around her nose and mouth and she looked like a gangsta or maybe a bandit from one of those old westerns. I could see the shotgun propped up in the seat beside her. I was so relieved to have her back. I couldn't say if it was her that I was happy to have around or if I was just glad I wasn't alone.
I adjusted my own mask. I still didn't know if the masks worked, but we could find out about that when we got online at the museum. It would be good if we could find out about the necessary amount of alcohol. Hopefully we wouldn't need to get drunk every time we had an interaction with the infected.
Even though it was a longer route to the museum, I took Bragusberg Road again. Gala Road would have taken us to Clayfield, too, but I didn't know if we'd encounter any wrecked or abandoned cars that way that would block our path. Our last drive down Bragusberg Road had been clear, and I didn't want to stop until we got to the museum.
I took it slow. I wanted to check out the houses on our way into town. The infected were out, and there were a lot of them. I made a mental note of every house where I saw them. It didn't mean those houses were abandoned, but it was a good (bad) sign.
The disease seemed to affect them in different ways. Some of the people were quite spry but others were almost catatonic. I noticed a few with bad injuries, but they didn't act bothered by them.
I would see them in yards and fields. Some would run out to the road as we passed and chase us. At one point, we had a small crowd behind us, like we were the press vehicles in a televised marathon. Jen was getting nervous about it. A couple of times it looked like one of our pursuers almost caught up to her, but I don't think there was any real danger of that. We were going slowly, but fast enough to stay ahead of them.
When we got on an open, straight stretch of road, she sped up and pulled alongside me on my left. She couldn't roll her passenger side window down because it was the manual kind of window, so instead of yelling at me, she gave me a dirty look, flipped me the bird and motioned for me to get a move on. I grinned as she dropped back behind me. After that, we drove 60 mph until we got in the city limits and left the crowd of infected in the road between two cornfields.
CHAPTER 13
There was a lot of smoke over Clayfield. It looked like fires were still burning on the west side of town. My house was out that way, and I was curious whether it was still standing. I would check on it later, but at that time, we needed to get into the museum without attracting too much attention. It didn't look like that was going to be possible.
As Bragusberg Road enters the city limits, it is lined with large trees and old, but restored, Victorian and Shingle Style houses. I could see people out on the front lawns of some of the homes. They were interested in us, but only a few followed. One particular blue house was surrounded on all sides by at least a hundred people. Most stood, staring up at the second floor, but there were some that were trying, and failing, to climb up the side.
Bragusberg Road ended, and I took a right onto 6th street, headed north. As I approached the court square, my stomach knotted up.
They were everywhere. The only other time of year I saw so many people in the streets was in October during the town's Pumpkin Festival.
The south side of the square was so thick with people, it would be impassable. I
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