The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers by Christian Fletcher Page B

through the back window and saw the masses of undead disappearing from sight into the darkness. Their pace was no more than a shamble on level ground but even slower going uphill.
    “I just need a minute,” Batfish gasped as she brought the vehicle to a halt at the summit of the overpass. She put her face in her hands and outwardly sobbed in a release of relief and shock.
    We all muttered words of gratitude and encouragement. Batfish may have been a scary chick but she had done us proud with that horrific journey. I looked out the window and over the dark and decimated town of Brynston. I said a silent farewell to Pete, Marlon and Sam, my ex-girlfriend, wherever they all were. I doubted if I’d ever return.
    Rosenberg told us they had stopped about a mile ahead of the overpass when we’d split away from them and the roads seemed fairly clear. The plan was reevaluated and everyone agreed we should try and make it to that yacht in Battery Park Harbor.
    Eazy took over driving duties from Batfish, allowing her to doze in the front seat. I checked the time and was shocked to see it was five am. The first shards of daylight began to creep across the horizon. I wondered what delights this new day had in store for me and pondered on the fact it could be my last in human form.
    Smith and Rosenberg dozed in the back seat and rocked side to side with the motion of the vehicle. Donna chain smoked in the front seat and Eazy clicked on the radio. He tried several local channels spouting more religious small talk and different theories concerning the infection. Somebody on one of the channels made a point which made me sit up and listen. He queried whether the infection was airborne or if animals had also contracted the symptoms. I’d personally seen no evidence to suggest the infection was airborne as I’d been up close and personal to enough zombies without contracting the virus. As for animals, I hadn’t seen any zombie dogs or anything else. I racked my brains and tried to think when I last saw a living animal of any description. I watched the fields flash by through the camper window. The golden sun rose on a clear summer day and it could have been like a camping trip with some old friends. I knew I was feeling the effects of sleep deprivation. My mind was a jumbled mess.
    I shut my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the morning sun’s rays on my face. I slipped into the numbness and ignorance of sleep and welcomed the lack of awareness it brought.
    The whine of the VW engine changing down gears jolted me awake.
    “Uh oh. I think we got a problem,” Eazy said.
    I blinked sleep away and took a look out of the front window. A line of vehicles blocked the Interstate like a giant had swept his hand across the traffic. Piles of debris lay strewn across the lanes. Fenders, wheel hubs, broken glass and baggage scattered the road. Some vehicles lay on their sides and others had overturned completely. A jack-knifed truck stood half buried in the center of the pile up.
    “What do we do?” Eazy threw the question out to the floor. Nobody answered. He slowed and brought the camper to a halt twenty yards from the stacked heap of wrecked vehicles.
    “Let’s get out and take a look,” Smith growled like a bear disturbed from hibernation. “We may be able to shift a few wrecks and clear a path through.”
    “Okay, but be careful and keep your wits about you,” Eazy commanded.
    “Who put Snoop Dogg there, in charge?” Smith sighed.
    Eazy ignored Smith’s comment and lit a smoke.
    “I need to get out and stretch my legs,” Batfish groaned, sounding still half asleep.
    “I’ll come with you,” Donna said.
    “I’m staying right here with the engine running,” Eazy said. “If a bunch of those dead motherfuckers come swarming out from those wrecks, I’m going to U-turn and get my black ass out of here, so y’all better be quick at getting back in the van.”
    Rosenberg followed Smith and me out of the back of the van. It felt