Chapter 63- Domestic Reinstatement

My feet were killing me, and it felt like my mouth was full of sand. I stopped my relentless pace and sat on the guardrail overlooking the swampy marsh behind me.  Taking off one shoe I emptied several small pebbles onto the pavement.  I needed water.  

Lacing my shoe back up I walked slowly toward the other side of the freeway.  I was only about a mile from the exit by my apartment, and I stared nervously down the road.  What would I find?  If nothing else I hoped to find the water worked.  I needed a shower and a good nights sleep.  

I hopped the guardrail and ran, my anticipation giving me new energy.  Abandoned cars zig-zagged across my path, and I moved between them quickly.  A few walkers stood near a minivan, stumbling aimlessly as though they were bored.  As I passed by them they turned and began to follow me.  A few others ahead of me moved toward the sound of my feet on the pavement, and I dodged their sweeping arms, hurling myself towards my destination.  A stitch was growing in my side and I knew I wouldn't be able to maintain this pace for long.  I looked behind me and saw a group gathering, following me as best they could.  There was at least 20 of them now, all shambling along, moving my direction with a slow but determined resolve.  I could see the morning sun reflecting in their caked yellow eyes, covered with the mucus I had come to associate with the infected.  I pushed forward, determined to lose them before I reached my home.  

The once familiar streets were foreign to me now.  Store windows were smashed, broken by looters, their contents emptied out.  More of the infected stood on the sidewalks and in the street, staring blankly at the ground or up into the sky.  I moved quickly and silently between them, triggering their blank stares into curious action.  How could they tel between me and other infected?  I wondered if it was by smell, but in my current state I had to stink just as bad as they did.  

My building loomed ahead, and a feeling of eagerness mixed with nervousness creeped in.  What would I find? I rounded the corner and saw the familiar parking lot, most of the garages open and empty.  My garage was open as well, and it looked as though someone had pulled almost everything off the small shelf toward the back.  I thought of my jeep, now destroyed, found at the bottom of that lake.  It reminded me of so much.  A moan behind me spurred me to action and I turned to see two infected women hobbling toward me.  One was heavyset and wore a house dress covered with looney tunes characters, the other a trim little athlete in jogging attire.  I couldn't help but think how this duo was unlikely to be freinds in their past lives, but would wander together now for...  Well, forever I guess.  

I didn't want them to trace me to my apartment, so I decided to take them on a little distraction run.  I moved toward my neighbor's house, cutting outward toward the parking spot where he used his hammer on his bumper.  I remembered the feeling of confusion as I saw him pounding on his own vehicle.  I wrapped around the back of a truck and ducked down.  The two mindless women wandered back, sniffing for any sign and listening intently for movement.  I crept low and silent along the opposite edge, ducking behind another vehicle before doubling back toward my apartment.  As I moved up the first floor landing I looked down and saw them slapping their arms idly on the car as though their weak effort would reveal my location.  

I looked down the hallway and didnt see anything.  Moving rapidly to my door I tapped my code into the keypad and heard the familiar click and whir of the motor in my digital lock.   I opened the door slowly, looking inside cautiously.  The familiar smell of home filled my nose and I instantly relaxed.  Closing the door quietly behind me, I stood in my living room.  The blinds were drawn, so the room seemed dark and quiet.  I moved to the kitchen, opening the fridge.  The smell of a few rotting leftovers wasnt enough to overpower me, but I quickly shut the door.  I tried the sink and was greeted with a hollow echo instead of the gushing stream I hoped for.  Opening the pantry door I saw a few bottles of water in the back of a cardboard tray.  I grabbed them and quickly emptied one.  The water was amazing, and I downed the second after a large gasp of air.  I had one bottle left and decided to save it for later. Hopefully my storage unit would be intact but if not I would need this water later.  

My bedroom was just as I left it, and a mixture of laughter and tears came out of my mouth as I tossed myself onto the mattress.  My pillows were a cool comfort and I slipped into sleep almost instantly. 

Chapter 62- Bourne Again

I am not Jason Bourne.  As I run down the dark pavement I am assured of that with every step. My mind recalls Matt Damon's legendary character sitting in a diner, describing how he knows where the guns are and who might be a threat in the room. He tells Marie "I know I can run flat out for half a mile before my hands start shaking."  I've only been running for a few hundred feet and I feel like I'm going to have a full body heart attack.  

I slow to a jog and look behind me. I can still see the silhouettes of my attackers walking slowly in the darkness. Without anything else to attract their attention, they are still following me. Futile.  They could never catch me. "Never say never" I remind myself out loud. One thing about running, you are alone with your thoughts. I walk slowly, my arms on the top of my head, stretching out the stich in my side.  I think back on my childhood, sitting on the couch at grandma's house, watching the old Disney version of the tortoise and the hare.  That rabbit knew he was faster, yet when he stopped to take a nap the tortoise caught up, passing him to win the race. The monsters in my rear view wouldn't be passing me, and they certainly wouldn't  need a nap.  I drove the thought of being eaten alive while I slept from my mind.  

How long had it been since I had a good night's rest?  It felt like ages.  I wondered if I could find somewhere safe.  Had Oliver found a safe place?  I worried about a young boy all alone in this new world of horror. Would be thrive or be devoured by a horde closing in on him?  Had he already been?  I felt helpless to assist him.  I had no idea where he could have gone, how long he'd been on his own and can only assume he thought me dead after our accident. Poor kid.  He'd been though so much.  

I looked over toward the skyscrapers looming in the middle of the city. They seemed so far away.  Out here on the freeway I was literally miles from downtown, and completely on the opposite side of town from my condo and the storage unit.  I had supplies there, and if Tracy was still alive that was where she'd be headed. I had planned on crossing town to get there but after my few forays down the off ramps I'm re-thinking that strategy. Perhaps I stay on the loop, wrap all the way around the city.  It would take hours on foot, but it might be safer than trying to navigate the crowded road in a vehicle.  

I kept a steady pace, watching the road for any signs of life.  The moon was up and illuminated the path ahead well. On the opposite side of the freeway I could see the occasional lumbering shape, but on foot they didn't even notice me. Apparently being without a vehicle had its benefits.  My stomach rumbled. I thought of the boxes full of food I'd left in the overturned truck, dozens of cans and those few MREs.  No matter. I had plenty of food in my storage unit.  Just needed to make it there. 

Chapter 61- Entanglement

He doesn't look dead, but he acts like every zombie I've seen in the movies. He lurches to one side as though his left leg doesn't work, and uncomfortable moans emit from a mouth that sags downward, as though he's been anesthetized. His skin is pale, slightly dirty, but otherwise unblemished, and he's wearing a tailored suit that fits his healthy physique well. I can tell he must have been successful before the virus mutated his DNA, because he's wearing cufflinks, expensive looking shoes and a very nice watch. He shambles closer to me and I back away, glancing behind me at the woman in the floral dress advancing from my rear.  She, too, looks healthy and active, her once attractive face wiped clean of all emotion and her eyes caked with the thick yellow film I've come to expect on every ghoul.  Unlike the man she doesn't limp, but whatever the virus has done to her DNA has altered her brains capacity for fine motor skills, and her steps are awkward and forced. Her cheek bones have sunken in a bit, as though she hasn't eaten in a while, and her simple dress and inexpensive flip flops indicates she probably comes from humbler circumstances than her undead counterpart in front of me. 

I step left, moving away from the car as silently as I can. As I do so I watch their faces shudder and follow me, adjusting their lumpy walks to compensate for my new direction. I still can't tell if they can see through that thick haze covering their eyes or if they are using smell and sound.  Perhaps, like me, they use all their senses, but only on a limited scale.  

I look around for something I can use as a weapon, anything long that will allow their swinging, searching arms from grasping me. This side of the highway is empty, the reason I chose it, and I regret that I ever made the decision to leap that barricade. 

I look back at the overturned truck, the contents spilled across the freeway in ruin. A camping chair would give me the distance I need, but would be awkward to hold.  A long shred of rope sits near it and I grab them both. I allow myself a moment of humor as I imagine myself using them as a lion tamer from the cartoons I watched as a child, pushing the monsters away from me with the chair while snapping the rope above their heads like a whip.  It was the best I could do for now.  

I quickly unfolded the chair and slung the long strap of the case over my shoulder. I would need this makeshift backpack in the future. I held the aluminum chair out in front of me and grasped the length of rope in the other hand. I forcefully thrust it downward, feeling like Indiana Jones as I heard the familiar crack of broken air. 

The man in the suit is almost upon me now, and I pushed the chair into his chest, forcing him to take a step backwards. He seemed angry by this and moved more aggressively toward me, ignoring the legs of the chair that blocked him from obtaining his quarry. I looked over at the woman and swung the chair to my right, guiding the stumbling man with it. Now they were both in front of me, a more manageable situation than bring surrounded. Their hands are inches from my face, and I can see dirt and debris caked under their nails. The smell of urine and feces combines with their breath to concoct one of the most putrid smells that has ever entered my nostrils.  I gag on the stench, instinctively stepping backwards to retreat from its probing aroma.  

I pull my right arm back and swing hard, watching as the rope curves around their necks and almost hits me in the face.  It sloughs off the chair and onto the ground, and I try again, hoping I could somehow tie them together to the chair, knowing that the odds are not in my favor.  The two push against the aluminum braces and scratch uselessly at the nylon. They seem oblivious to each other, and I have the momentary thought that they could have made a nice couple, if only they could find a way to communicate. I force away my smile and swing the rope again, this time watching as it falls perfectly in the hinge of the chair.  Like an expert fisherman I pull hard, locking the end of rope tightly in the elbow of the hinge.  I hold firm to the chair and watched as their two bodies squeeze together. As they realize their predicament on some subconscious level their movements become more frantic, and they lunge forward, more desperate to grab me. 

Three more are approaching from behind me, and I swing my newlywed couple toward them, creating an undead barricade between me and and the oncoming horde.  I glance behind me. Open road. With a gigantic push I force the entangled couple to their backs, turning to run as they fumble to release themselves from their bonds.  I turn and run as fast as I can, hoping that the road ahead will provide some rest from this nightmare. 

Chapter 60- Suspension

You know that feeling when you know you need to wake up but your body is unwilling to cooperate?   When you can hear your alarm clock going off but your eyes just won't open?  Most of the time this happens its because I'm dreaming about being asleep.  I can't wake myself because my real body is still sleeping.  Its not until I realize I'm in a dream that my real eyes burst open.  Too bad, because if I could consciously realize I was in a dream, I imagine I could have a lot of fun.  I always wondered how Leonardo DiCaprio did that in Inception.  How did he know he was in a dream and stay asleep?  

I try to force my eyelids open but they refuse, and my mind races through my body, trying desperately to remember where I was and what I was doing. I have the strangest feeling of vertigo, as though the whole world is upside down. It's dark, and there's pressure on my waist and on my shoulder. I manage to open my eyelids wide, but still can't see much, like I am looking though dark sunglasses or some invisible blindfold.

Attempting to make sense of the darkness I realize I can't hear through my left ear.  Its like a bubble is clogging the hole, like when you surface from doing underwater flips in a swimming pool.  I shake my head and feel a sharp pain rip across my skull and down my spine. I reached my hand up to my ear and felt a warm trickle of blood collect on my fingertip. I'm hurt?  How?  As I ask myself my mind flashes, recalling boney fingers pulling on my head, trying to pull me out of a truck window.  Instantly all the memories of the past few weeks flood into my mind and I gasped as I remembered where I was and what I was doing.  A wave of panic washes through me, turning my veins to ice and sending fear through my body.  

The fog on my eyesight began to lift and I could see I had obviously failed to "jump" our truck over the highway barricade and was now suspended upside down in the ruin of what was once our only mode of transportation. The smell of engine oil and burned rubber filled my nostrils.  I was still buckled into the drivers seat, and looked over at the passenger seat next to me, hoping Oliver was okay.  The seatbelt was undone and he was gone. "Oliver!" I called out, instantly worried that he was injured or worse. My call was met with a soft moan and I squinted to make sense of the road, stretching on ahead for miles.  A few pairs of shuffling feet approached me awkwardly but deliberately, attracted by the sounds I had foolishly made.  Canned goods spilled across the road ahead, and they rolled away as their shambling feet moved closer.  

Suspended upside down, I push the button to my seat belt only to come crashing down onto my head

Trying to be as quiet as I can, I struggle to release the safety belt that holds me suspended. With my weight pushing against the buckle it won't release, and I wiggle back and forth, trying to alleviate the pressure on the clasp. I push hard and the buckle pops and I crash onto my head and shoulders in a heap. Pain surges through my scalp as my head hits a mix of canned goods and broken glass, and I drag myself through it, trying to escape the cab of the truck so I can stand up.  

As I pull myself through the window I see the stumbling silhouettes move even closer, converging on the truck, their arms outstretched.  I can't see their faces, but I can hear their soft grunts as they move forward, trying to corner me.  I look around for something to use as a weapon, anything to defend myself against the approaching horde.  As I step to my feet I place a hand on the overturned truck, steadying myself against the vertigo in my head.  I close one eye and try to make sense of my surroundings. I'm still feeling foggy and I don't know why.  I look up to count my assailants.  Two, three, no five, all approaching steadily.  They are moving slow enough that I should be able to outrun them, but as I take a step forward I feel a sharp pain in my leg.  I reach down and feel a shard of glass lodged in my thigh.  I could remove it, but I remember my first aid training from being a Boy Scout as a teenager.  It might be the only thing stopping me from bleeding, so I leave it.  

My options are growing smaller.  I may not be able to outrun these monsters, and they definately outnumber me.  I have no weapon, and I might have a concussion.  The one closest to me is now less than 10 feet away, and I can see his pale yellow eyes in the starlight.  He reaches for me, emitting a gurgling sound like he's choking on something in his throat, and I feel my adrenaline surge but know I am powerless to escape.  

Chapter 59- Leap of Faith

I stuck the tip of my axe under the thick metal framing and pulled back hard.  Slowly the ramp lifted slightly, and Oliver pushed the can of creamed corn under the edge.  "Okay," he said.  "Let it down." I looked at him incredulously. "It's going to crush that can!" I said, but Oliver just smiled. "Nope." He said triumphantly. "Just watch." I decreased the pressure on my axe and watched the ramp lower down onto the can and sit firmly on top. It didn't crush. "We did a science experiment where we played with different shapes and materials to see whIch could support the most weight." I was impressed. The can was holding up at least 100 lbs, probably a lot more. "Now, stick your axe back there and pry up again" he said, pointing at a point further back.  "We'll keep doing this over and over until we can flip this thing over."

The process seemed simple enough. I guess it took a young mind to figure it out. I placed the axe a bit further down this time, being sure to leave enough space that Oliver could brace it with the can. He did so, and I released my grip on the axe handle. It still held. We repeated this four times until we had enough of an angle that we could lift it. Getting on either side, we heaved with all our might, pushing the ramp into a completely vertical position and then felt a moment of weightlessness combined with a surge of adrenaline. The ramp tipped slowly backwards and then fell rapidly to the ground, locking into place behind the truck with a tremendous clang.

We allowed ourselves a momentary celebration, but knew the noise would draw out every infected monsters within a mile. "We don't have much time." I said, racing down the ramp and climbing into the truck. "We have to get enough speed to clear that barricade, and it would only take one or two of those things to slow us down." We buckled our safety belts and I looked forward, staring at the massive ramp and debating the intelligence of this act. I looked over at Oliver, who was once again gripping the handle of his hammer, knuckles white and face staring directly ahead.

I put the truck in reverse and backed up slowly, throwing my arm over the back of the seat as I turned my head. We moved back about 100 feet and stopped. I put the truck in drive and stared forward. "What are you waiting for?" Oliver asked. I stared at the ramp ahead and felt the creeping nervousness of doubt filling my veins. Was I crazy for doing this?  Would we completely destroy our truck with this foolhardy attempt?  I looked to my left and saw the clean, empty road stretching on for miles. This risk, it paid off, would mean freedom, the ability to cover more distance with less risk. I pursed my lips, ignoring the warning bells screaming in my ears. 

The engine roared as I pushed hard on the accelarator. The truck lurched forward and pulled us rapidly toward the ramp. Small corrections in our steering seemed to make massive changes in our trajectory, and as we picked up speed it became increasingly difficult to keep the vehicle in line with the ramp. 

30, 35, 40 miles per hour. This was too fast.  I pulled my foot off the gas but the pedal stuck.  45...  50... The truck hit the lip of the ramp and lurched upward, pushing us down into our seats. The truck leapt off the edge and the engine roared loudly as the wheels lost connection with the ground. A momentary feeling of weightlessness filled our heads as the truck tipped forward, back down toward the ground. 

SLAM! The front bumper hit first, meeting the concrete road with tremendous force. Unyielding, we felt the pull of arrested momentum launch us against our safety belts. The truck lurched upward and I felt a string of terror as we turned upside down.  Momentary pain filled my head and everything went black. 

Chapter 58- Panic and Distraction

"Tracy!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Tracy! Tracy!" I was in a feverish panic. I leapt down from the front of the truck and sprinted toward the jeep. "Tracy!" I called out again, feeling a frantic dread welling up inside me.

Between me and the jeep were several ghouls, all intent on me now that I had announced my presence so blatantly. The nearest one reached for me eagerly as his fellow converged from the left. Almost instinctively I grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled him toward me, using his weight and momentum to launch myself forward and throw him onto his face behind me. He other seemed almost confused by the sudden reversal and it took a moment to realize I was now further away, a fact I exploited to trip him and flip him backwards over the guardrail.

Three more up ahead bore down on me hard, and I moved deftly behind a sedan to avoid their grasping claws. A ferocious woman with a flower printed jacket rounded the corner and hissed as she moved toward me. I kicked her hard and watched her stumble backwards before regaining her balance. Standing on the trunk of the car I climbed over the rook and down across the hood, leaving a trail of monsters following me. The clambered eagerly over each other, desperate to get their hands on me, but I pushed onward toward the Jeep.

As I got close enough I could see that she was gone. "Of course she's gone" I thought to myself.  I felt like an idiot.  The odds of survival were almost none, especially in a convertible. I was so excited to see something familiar in this new world that I acted rashly, and now my little escapade left me in the middle of the road surrounded by walkers.  I looked back at the truck and saw Oliver watching me.  He had a worried look on his face and sat quietly on the roof of the truck cab. I quickly searched the jeep for any sign of Tracy's whereabouts.  Had she run out of gas or abandoned the vehicle for safer or more reliable transportation?  Either way there was no way to tell.

The first walker I had thrown onto the ground now led the pack moving rapidly toward me. A thick black bruise was developing on his cheek and nose where he had hit the pavement.  I looked in the back of the jeep and found a fireman's axe.  I grabbed it and took a step back, placing more distance between me and the approaching horde. 

I looked down at the axe.  It was sharp and the handle was well worn.  Could I do this?  I'd be killing someone.  I mean, they were dead, right?  Or were they just infected by something?  The doctor had explained that the genetic code is mutated to eliminate the body's ability to reason and use finer motor skills, but he never mentioned if the effects were permanent.  Had they been the only ones working on a cure?  If a solution could be found, killing these monsters would be... Murder.  I thought of the other lives I had already taken, wondering who they were, if they had families. 

An inhuman moan emanated from the group and I looked up to see them almost on top of me.  I thought of Mr. Lawrence, the cranky old man who almost killed my mother.  "Mom!" I said out loud, remembering her grisled, knarled face desperately trying to attack me though the glass in that underground bunker. There was no humanity left in her, and she would have killed me if she had the chance. I gripped the handle of my axe firmly and got ready to swing. 

"Clank" the sound of metal crashing against a nearby car drew the attention of the group. They stopped moving toward me and shuffled briskly toward the sound. "Clank!" This time it was over to the left, and I looked over to see a can of creamed corn roll under a car. I looked back at the truck but Oliver was gone.  Searching the maze of cars I saw his head bobbing in and out between cars. He was searching for the cans we had thrown earlier, and each time he found one he tossed it in the opposite direction, leading the pack slowly away from me.  He looked up at me and grinned, beckoning me to return. I smiled back, impressed that a ten year old had saved my life twice now.  

I turned back to the jeep, looking one last time for any sign of Tracy.  I opened the center console and tried the glove box.  I looked under seats and in the trunk.  It was completely empty.  Of course she didn't leave me a note. She must have assumed I was dead. If not then she never would have left that shop in the first place.  Even if she thought I was alive the odds of finding this jeep were slim, right? I took the axe and headed back toward the truck, dodging deftly around the abandoned vehicles and avoiding the lack wandering through the road.  

When I got back to the truck bed I climbed up onto it, gesturing to Oliver to come join me.  He tossed another can as far as he could and pattered back to me as quickly as his little legs could carry him.  I reached down and gripped his wrist, letting his hand wrap around my forearm.  With a firm grip, I pulled him up into the air, lifting him from the ground below and resting him onto his feet up on the truck bed next to me.  

As soon as I released my grip he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly. I returned his hug and then pulled away.  I crouched down, meeting his eye level and looking directly at him.  "You saved my life" I said sincerely.  He grinned from ear to ear.  "Twice." He looked down at his hammer and then back at me, as though he was afraid to ask a question.  "Who is Tracy?" I stood up, looking out at the fading light of day and the group of walkers bumbling about the road.  "A very good friend." I replied.  I can tell you all about it later, but for now we need to get this ramp down." 

We moved to the back of the bed, and J stuck one side of the axe under the ramp. Prying it forcefully I was able to lift it up several inches.  "It's no use" I said, letting it down again slowly.  "Even with the axe we can't get this up enough."  Oliver brightened and looked at me.  "Do it again!" He said, holding up the last can of creamed corn.  "I have an idea!" 

Chapter 57- Slammed

Every exit was surrounded by a swarm of the infected. We had passed 5 exits in the past hour, and each one seemed to be more crowded than the next. Oliver wiggled nervously in his seat, the moans of the shambling monsters outside increasing in volume. We never drove close enough to allow them to latch onto us, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid their sweeping arms and navigate the field of abandoned vehicles.

Their blank faces were sunburnt and raw. Some were covered in blood that was beginning to blacken as it dried on their pale skin.  They wore no expressions, but walked idly until something moved within their field if attention. "We need to get off this road." I said to Oliver, who sat white knuckled in the seat next to me, avoiding the passenger window as best he could.

The southbound side of the road was virtually empty, tall cement barricades blocking the hordes of wandering bodies from passing to the other side.  "Hey," I called out to Oliver, directing his attention to the other side of the road.  "If we could get over there we could drive as far as we needed to without danger." Oliver sat up, craning his ten year old neck as though the extra height gave him a birds eye view.  His attention was brought back in front of us as yet another semi truck loomed ahead.  This one blocked the entire road, and looked as though it had slammed into the guardrail on the left before tipping precariously to one side.  It was a flat bed, probably used for carrying oversized items like factory parts or loads of lumber, but was currently empty.  No doubt its driver was on his way back home from a long haul when his genetic composition was mutated into one of the roaming monsters we saw scattered across the highway.

"We could jump it." I said courageously.  Oliver's face brightened like any young boy looking for adventure.  I pointed at the rear of the truck bed.  "See those triangles? They fold down into a ramp to allow easy loading onto the back of the truck.  If we could get them down we could get over that barricade." He looked excited but a little nervous.  "They look heavy though." I said with uncertainty.  "And even if we got over that its a long drop to the other side.  Its possible our truck wouldn't make it without breaking."  We looked at the road ahead, masses of monsters moving toward us slowly.  I remembered the clambering monsters scaling fences and climbing over cars.  "We're not really any safer on that side, but we'd have the freedom to drive a little faster." I said.  "I think its worth a shot."

I pulled alongside the truck, climbing out of the window onto the tall flat bed.  Oliver quickly followed, gripping his hammer tightly and looking nervously at a wanderer moving slowly toward us.  "Keep your eye on that one" I said, gesturing toward the middle age man wearing a cheap business suit.  The grey in his salt and pepper hair matched his pale skin, and a large laceration on one arm could be seen beneath a tear in his sleeve.  He walked with a limp, as though he were unable to get his feet moving as they once did, and his yellow, dead looking eyes stared up at the sun as he hobbled toward us.  His head was cocked to one side as though he was listening, and he took a step toward us whenever he heard our footsteps.

I looked at the ramp, locked down to the truck bed by a thick chain.  The large metal clasps were spring loaded and would be easy enough to remove, and the ramps had a hinge on the rear above the taillights.  The real challenge would be lifting them up and flipping them over.  They were made of steel, and each one was almost the size of Oliver's entire body.  I could only assume they used such sturdy materials on trucks that were meant to haul construction vehicles.  I stooped down and lifted one side.  Straining with all my might I was only able to lift the ramp a few inches.  I needed some leverage.

As I looked around for something I could use as a pry bar, I heard laughing.  I looked over to see Oliver "playing" with the zombie nearby.  He had a stack of cans from the back of the truck and would periodically throw one in an opposite direction, causing the shambling monster to turn and approach the source of the sound.  As it got close he'd throw another can in another spot, leading it further away from us.  "Oliver that's our food!" I called out to him and saw his smile replaced with an expression of guilt.  "Its just creamed corn." He said under his breath, nudging a can at his feet with a toe.  "I hate creamed corn."  I walked over to him, picking up a can and looking at the label.  A dancing stalk of corn was holding hands with a white pitcher.  The two characters looked cheap and disgusting, and I laughed a little, realizing that I, too, hated creamed corn.  We'd have to be pretty desperate to want to eat this garbage.  "I have a better idea" I said, smiling at him.  I wound up like a baseball pitcher and threw the can toward the businessman's head.  It narrowly missed his ear and clattered against the pole of the guardrail on the other side of the road.  He immediately turned and moved toward the sound, giving a hollow moan as he limped over.  I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous it seemed.

Oliver took aim with another can, hurling toward our target with 10 year old fervor.  It slapped the man solidly in the back with a deep thump, and he immediately turned and gave out another mournful sound.   We both burst into laughter, which drew its attention right toward us.  "Here we go!" I called out to Oliver, taking a can and throwing it as hard as I could at his head.  It missed again, sailing over his speckled hair and landing almost silently in the grass on the opposite side of the road.  He continued moving toward us, head cocked to one side as though tracking our movements with his ears.  Oliver tossed another can at him which thumped against his leg and rolled across the ground.  "Two cans left" I said, handing one to Oliver.  I stretched my left hand out, looking down my arm like the sight on a gun.  Closing my right eye I hurled the can with all my might, watching as it crashed into his head with a sickening splat.  We both shouted with excitement, hugging each other in our moment of triumph and watching as he staggered for a moment and then fell down on his bottom.  His arms moved up, waving in the air as though reaching for something, and then he collapsed backward, lifeless on the dark asphalt road.  Oliver looked down at the last can in his hands.  "We should probably save this one." He said, smiling.  I patted him on the back.  "I'm not sure Id ever be hungry enough to eat it" I said smiling, "But it will make a fantastic trophy on my mantle someday."

We got back to work, looking for something to lift the ramp.  I climbed over the top of the cap and looked down inside the cabin.  Nothing.  Standing on top of the truck I looked out across the freeway.  A few scattered walkers quietly wandered in and out of the abandoned vehicles, quietly waiting for something to trigger the few senses they had use of.  I was about to turn back when something caught my eye.  I squinted, trying to visually reaffirm what my instincts already knew.  Out on the road, turned over on one side, was the Jeep.