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.
"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.
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