Chapter 88- Exit Strategy

I pressed on the brake, slowing the van to a full stop.  Ahead the on ramp to highway 48 loomed, it's cement pathway leading upward and to the right.  Several abandoned cars clogged the intersection, and a few of dogs were fighting over a corpse laying in the street.  The sun was beginning to set, and I felt a tinge of fear ice over my heart.  The last time I drove onto this freeway I practically crawled off after flipping a truck and losing a little boy...  My mind instantly played back the moment when I woke to find myself hanging upside down in a truck, suspended by a seat belt with walkers heading my direction.  I remember looking at the seat next to me, instinctively wanting to protect Oliver from the approaching danger, but he was gone. Had he run off?  Was he flung from the truck and laid in an unknown ditch waiting for rescue?  Was he still alive, wandering the freeway in search of food and shelter?  My heart wanted to find him, to help him, to take him with me to Tracy's cabin, but logic told me I would never see him again, and to spend time looking for him after all the time that has lapsed would just put me in danger and expend valuable resources. 

Remembering my trouble navigating through the abandoned cars littered across the freeway, I made my way instead to the off ramp and proceeded upward. Compared to the on ramp this side was  empty, just ad I expected, with only one or two cars waiting for a light that would never change. As I crested the hill I was greeted with a fantastic sunset.  The brilliant reds and yellows streaked across the sky in long waves, dipping into purple as they touched the horizon.  The sun was directly ahead, it's brightness diminished by the thick clouds and vibrant color. I squinted and drove forward, the only vehicle for miles.  To my right the city loomed, it's building casting long shadows in the fading light.  It was lost, and I had no intention of returning.  Ahead lay a new life, a new future, and the fulfillment of all my expended efforts up to this point.  

I cruised along easily, being careful to keep my speed around 40mph to optimize my fuel.  The gas gauge read empty, but I would run it until it died, making sure I used every last drop. Tracy's map showed a gas station off the side of the freeway exit, but there was no guarantee I could get the pumps to work.  Most were digital these days, and without a working monetary system or electrical power they would be useless.  Gigantic hordes of fuel just sitting in the ground, waiting for someone to use their ingenuity to tap into their reserves.  

I glanced at the map.  I had just passed exit 72 and I needed to exit on 74.  The cars were more sparse as I left the city, and I looked at my side view mirror and saw the buildings fading in the distance.  Rolling down the window I was greeted with clean, fresh air for the first time in days.  It reminded me that we are only guests on this planet, a small part of the planet's population and history. It felt all consuming inside that city, the smell of death everywhere, huge mobs of infected roaming the streets, but just a few miles outside the city nature still ruled.  The tall grass on the sides of the road would soon find their way through cracks in cement and the trees would one day uproot the pavement to replace the smooth surface with their powerful branches.  

I have always been a fan of city life.  I loved the feeling of developed streets and eclectic shops, access to everything and anything you need within a fee blocks.  The convenience of a comfortable apartment and an evolved transportation system give you the ability to focus on cultural and philanthropic events, and I would spend my evenings sitting in a sandwich shop late at night reading a magazine by the illuminated street lamps that surrounded me.  It was a wonderful life, an easy life, and while I knew it was gone, I wasn't sad.  The new life that lay before me was exciting and adventurous. I felt like a pioneer, embarking on a new chapter that would surely test my limits and challenge my ingenuity.  The best part was thinking who I would be spending it with.  Tracy was everything I had ever hoped for, beautiful and confident, talented and energetic.  When I saw her I would let her know how I felt about her, and without the nonsense of office propriety or the competition of other men we could start a life together.  I smiled, thinking of how excited I was to see her, and wondered if it would really work out in real life as easily as it did in my head.  

My headlights illuminated the sign for exit 74 and I moved to the right. Only a two lane highway at this point I could move freely on either side of the road as needed, and glanced back at the city behind me.  It wasn't much more than a few spindles of shadow on the horizon, and I hoped this distance would keep its new inhabitants far away from us.  As I got to the bottom of the ramp I felt the van sputter.  The gas station loomed ahead, it's tall canopy black against the starlit sky.  I coasted to a stop on the road in front of the station and climbed to the back of the van.  Grabbing my rifle I waited, wanting to see if my arrival would trigger whatever dark menace would surely be lurking outside.  I peered through the windows, looking for any sign of movement.  The lights were out and I saw nothing lurking in the shadows.  I just needed enough time to use my reserve can to fill up.  

As I climbed out of the back I quickly unscrewed the gas cap and tipped the nozzle into the hole.  The familiar gurgle of fuel seemed loud in the silence of the clean night air.  I looked around cautiously, watching for any sign of movement or danger.  In a tree somewhere I heard the familiar drone of a cicada bug, and his solemn yet peaceful sound was soon followed by a chorus of his compatriots in the distance.  

Tipping the can upward to empty the last few drops I pulled it out and replaced the cap.  As I glanced at the gas station a soft glow caught my eyes.  The tanks had power!  Their LED screens dimly illumitated, I stopped, wondering if I could fill up the van and my reserve cans too.  The stations always had a manual button that would turn on the pump, for those who pre-paid rather than using their card at the pump.  I strained my eyes, trying to see inside the darkened building. How were the pumps still getting power yet the lights inside were out?  I closed the van doors and stood, weighing the options.  I could just move on, hoping this last can of fuel was enough to get me there, but if I could fill up that would not only guarantee my arrival but give us fuel to do other things.  I imagined how useful the van would be with a full tank of gas.  Scavenging for supplies, hauling timbers to build walls and other structures...  It was worth the risk.  

I pulled my rifle off my shoulder and checked it.  Confident it was ready to fire, I pulled it tight against my shoulder and moved slowly toward the door.  The pumps made a low hum as I walked toward them, and I pulled on pe nozzle off cautiously, pulling the trigger to see if gas would start. The handle clicked without resistance, and I replaced it and continued toward the door.  Scanning from left to right I watched for any sign of movement.  The wind blew the free branches, drawing my attention with their soft, distracting movement.  

I peered in the windows of the station, watching for any movement.  Part of me wanted to call out, warning that potential person huddled inside behind the counter with a loaded shotgun that I wasn't one of the infected, but I knew such a vocalization would draw the undead to my location, and I didn't need that kind of trouble. 

My foot nudged a can of corned beef which rolled until it hit the curb.  Seeing the worn label reminded me of how hungry I was, and I realized this store meant more than fuel, it was stocked with unhealthy food packed with preservatives, the kind that tasted good and lasted forever.  If I could get the gas pump on I could be filling the back of my van while the tank filled.  A smile broke across my lips and I had to remind myself not to get too excited, that I wasn't out of danger yet.  I approached the large double glass door and saw the tube from the nearby air compressor tied around the handles.  Someone had secured this door from the outside, and not to prevent human entrance.  I could easily unwind the rubber hose from the handles if I wished, but I worried now what lay inside.  

I tapped on the glass with the barrel of my gun and immediately saw figures rise from between the darkened store shelves.  The familiar moan of the undead was muffled by the glass and as my eyes adjusted I saw the long black smears on the inside of the door.  A man in coveralls was the first to emerge, pushing his bony fingers against the door.  The hose held tight, and the door bounced back and forth as he pushed his weight against it.  I stood a foot or so away, watching closely as two more joined him at the door.  From the safety of the exterior I could easily dispatch them with a bullet in the head of each, and then open the doors to claim my reward, but what would that attract?  I had no idea how inhabited this area was, how many zombies might be lurking in the woods behind this place.  

I looked around at the parking lot.  There were at least ten cars either parked in front or left at the pumps.  Each one represented a possibility of supplies and fuel and an option for transportation, each one also representing at lest one if not more people infected and willing to hunt me down.  If three were inside the building, where were the others?  I backed away slowly, standing out in the open to ensure I wouldn't be surprised by an approaching ghoul.  Scanning left and right I felt confident that if they were out there, they didn't know I was here.  

I relaxed a bit, and walked over to one of the cars by the gas pump.  It was a small sedan in poor condition, the owner clearly not caring about upkeep.  The rear bumper was held on with duct tape, and the brake light above it covered in a clear red tape, an attempt to make it work without paying for a repair I guess.  Inside the foor was covered in the remains of what looked like dozens of fast food meals from a variety of restaurant chains.  I wondered how someone could be satisfied driving such a vehicle, how they couldn't take the time to toss some of this refuse into the garbage can standing only a few feet away.  I rounded the car to the driver's side and to my surprise the gas pump was still in the car.  Had the owner left it pumping to go inside and grab a stick of beef jerky and a soda?  The counter on the pump still showed a balance, which meant it might still be active.  

I walked to the pump and squeezed.  I felt the resistance of the handle and as I squeezed I heard the sound of flowing fuel and the familiar click as the nozzle shut itself off.  This car clearly had a full tank, and this pump worked.  I eagerly rushed back to the van and started it.  The van sputtered at first and then roared to life.  I popped it into gear and pulled forward, then deftly flipped it into reverse and backed as close as I could to the pump.  I felt my rear bumper crunch against the sedan and heard the duct tape rip free.  

I moved quickly, not knowing if starting the van would attract some group of lonely walkers wandering through the woods.  I pulled on the hose and extended it as far as I could, stretching it around to reach the opposite side of the van where my cap was.  Removing the cover I shoved the nozzle into the hole and squeezed.  One great thing about the end of the world, gas was a lot cheaper.  

Chapter 87- Seventy times seven

I looked through the broken glass and saw movement in the street. What was that?  I squinted, moving my head around to see past the cracks in the windshield and saw a writhing, moving mass of arms, legs, and teeth. "Of course..." I whispered in silent frustration.  My unwelcome passenger pulled himself into the seat next to me and reached for the safety belt.  "Turn around!!" He called out in fear, and grabbed the rifle now laying on the floor between the seats. I wasn't about to protest. "Have you fired one if those before?" I asked.  Looking down at the rifle he pulled the slide back and let it snap into place. "Just drive!" He called out urgently.  

I spun the wheel to the right and slammed on the gas.  I could hear the collective moan of the horde through the open door swinging in the rear and I glanced in the rear view mirror to see hundreds of infected advancing rapidly. They moved fast, not running, but faster than walking.  Their feet washed over the road like a river of muddy water, flowing ever closer to the car.  One walker with long hair and a blood stained beard grabbed the side of the van and began to pull himself inside.  His thick yellow eyes dripped down a dirty face and he wore a tee shirt with a bearded face and the words "Duck Dynasty" in silver metallic letters.  As he climbed in his throat emitted a horrifying shriek which echoed off the metal surface of the van.  My hands still on the wheel I hunched my back as though my shoulders would find a way to cover my ears and mask the sound.  The soft pop of the AR-15 silenced the cacophony and I heard a thud as the body hit the floor.  

My passenger, who a moment ago was trying to bludgeon me, now seemed to be my biggest fan, urging me onward with encouragement and enthusiasm. "Turn there!" He called out. "Faster, faster!"  Another two infected leapt inside the door as he rattled off perfect shots, each one right between the eyes. 

The road ahead straightened out, allowing me to gain some speed.  The mass of death was no match for a vehicle that didn't have to weave around multiple abandoned cars and turn corners and as they disappeared behind us I began to relax a bit.  My passenger turned and relaxed, resting the gun between his knees and leaning his head on the headrest. After a moment of silence he spoke. "Hey, I'm Bob." He said, outstretching a friendly hand. I looked at him quizzically and he withdrew his hand slowly.  "Yeah, sorry about earlier." He looked down at his lap and I could tell he was ashamed of his behavior.  I was tempted to kick him out before he changed his mind and tried to steal the last of my supplies, but he had my gun and I wasnt sure how to get that back without a fight.  "Look, I'm really sorry about attacking you." His apology sounded sincere, but I still said nothing.  "We were wrong to do that. Lately if someone shows up with something we can use, we just take it.  Jeff convinced us that they were all threats, that if we didn't take what they had they would take from us.  At first we would let people in you know, give them a place of refuge, but now we have too many mouths to feed.  If we don't find food we won't survive."  I still didn't respond, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.  How was I to know this wasn't an effort to get the last of my stuff and take my van?  I couldn't risk it. "We've been scavenging, gathering what we can, but everything within several blocks has been picked clean by now, and unless it's canned its already spoiled.  We were debating whether to leave the city and then you showed up with clean water, ammunition, and food, wow, lots of food." He ran his hands through his hair and finally noticed the blood on his forehead where he had hit the windshield.  "Hey, I'm bleeding" he commented quietly.  I leaned over to the glove box and pulled out the first aid kit I had stashed there earlier. Dropping it on his lap I continued driving through the side streets toward the freeway. 

The road was less crowded here, with only occasional cars blocking one side of the road but never both, and I was able to navigate through quickly and easily. I knew this part of town well, it was the way I used to get to my mother's home every Sunday.  I couldn't see any sign of the horde.  Either they had fallen too far behind us or found something else upon which to lavish their undivided attention.  

I glanced into the back and surveyed the damage. Several bodies hung out of the doorway, stopped in their tracks by the excellent marksmanship of my unlikely ally.  Their legs hung out the door, feet dragging along the pavement behind us.  I looked to see what supplies we had left.  The cases of water were still there, and two cans of gas.  All the MREs were gone and half of the ammunition. I shook my head in frustration and wondered if the fuel would be enough to get to Tracy's cabin.  "We had to take it," Bob said, his voice filled with guilt.  "To stay alive."  I could tell that he knew what he was doing wasn't justified or right, and I finally spoke.  "Look, I knew Jeff before this all happened. He was a jerk sometimes but he wasn't a bad person. I don't know how he convinced you to be part of his thug squad, or who you've hurt along the way as you've followed his twisted directions, but what you did was wrong."  I let my words sink in before continuing.  "That was MY food, MY ammunition.  It wasn't scavenged either.  I personally bought it and stored it for an emergency. You have no idea what I've been through to get it, and now it's almost gone." I paused again, and from the corner of my eyes I could see his head hanging low.   

I would have gladly shared it, but because of your actions I may not have enough to take care of my family." As I said the word "family" I felt a pang of guilt. Tracy and I weren't exactly "family" (though I hoped we'd become that some day) but I lied a bit for emphasis, halfway hoping that my soapbox tirade would convince him not to hurt others in the future. 

We drove in silence for a while, and I wondered why I felt obligated to enforce a moral code in this new world. After all, did it really matter?  I'm never gonna see this guy again and if his situation was as dire as he expressed then he wouldn't survive long anyway.  No, I couldn't think like that.  Even if other's chose not to help each other I couldn't lose my sense of what was right.  Until the virus mutates again and kills off the last of us, we would need to stick together, to help each other. 

He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed silently into the back of the van.  I watched in the rear view mirror as he lifted the bodies by the arms and let them slip out into the street behind us. They rolled for a moment before coming to rest in the middle of the road.  It felt bad not to bury them, to pay respects somehow, but we didn't have the time nor the means for that.  Once all the bodies were gone he stood in the doorway and reached outside for the other door, pulling it tight.  

"Do you think I could have a water?" He said, standing in the rear of the van, and bracing himself against the shelf.  He looked longingly at the stack of bottles and I was impressed that he actually asked permission.  Maybe my speech did have an effect.  "Of course" I called back, and watched in the rear view as he tore into the plastic shrink wrap holding the bottles onto the cardboard pallet.  Wrenching the lid off he guzzled the bottle in a single turn and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.  Suddenly the van lurched, like a hiccup from the engine. I felt the gas pedal hit the floor and then lurch again. The tailpipe began to sputter and soon I was coasting on fumes. 

Bob hunched down and looked out the window. "Where are we?"  He asked, peering left to right. I climbed out of the seat and into the back. "We're on Bleaker, about two blocks from the hospital."  I lifted the gas can and looked out the back window before stepping out onto the street. This part of town didn't look ravaged, just abandoned.  Cozy town homes lined the street and cars were parked silently along the edges, just waiting for their owners to return and drive them to work.  I looked at the houses, waiting for any sign of danger. Satisfied that the street was empty, I twisted open the gas cap and began pouring the fuel into the tank. 

The thin brown liquid gurgled into the tank, and as it emptied I tipped it upward to get the last little drops inside. Once empty I put the cap back on and glanced up at the windows as I walked to the back of the van. "You can have a few bottles of water, and help yourself to any tool you think you could use as a weapon, but I can't let you take my guns." I said matter-of-factly as I tossed the empty gas can into the back. It bobbled around loosely until it stopped against his leg.  "Or you can stay with me.  I'm headed out of town." I gestured toward the freeway and beyond. He stared at me, and I couldn't tell if he was deciding what to do or shocked by the options presented. 

He reached down and took three bottles of water. Tucking one into each pocket and holding the third, he picked up a breaker bar sitting on a shelf and looked me in eye before getting out of the van.  His gaze was one of restrained anger mingled with disappointment.  I averted my eyes, closing the back gate and walking toward the driver's side door.  I paused, my hand on the handle. "Are you sure?" I asked, not looking up. He didn't say anything, just stood there like a golem. I nodded and pushed the button with my thumb. The door clicked open and I pulled it to my left and climbed in. 

I sat in the driver's seat, torn by his mysterious behavior. Had he really expected a simple apology to make up for his behavior?  How could it?  He had tried to kill me, had stolen from me, and probably had done much worse to others before me. Was I supposed to take pity on him because he helped me outrun the wave of undead that almost took us?  Should I part with even MORE of my supplies just because he felt remorse for his poor behavior?  I had every right to hold a grudge. 

I started the van and heard the engine sputter at first, but then breath to lef as the fuel filled its lines and made its way to the engine. I put the van into gear and looked in my mirror. He was still standing there like a statue, watching me. "I don't have to forgive him." I told myself as I pulled away, yet as he disappeared from my view something inside me whispered the truth, and I felt the knot in my stomach grow. 

Chapter 86- Mercs

"What do you mean you created it?" I asked, shocked. "How could you be responsible for a massive horde of zombies?" Jeff not only seemed calm about the entire situation, he was practically beaming. "It was simple actually." He explained.  "We noticed early on that the zombies seemed to gravitate naturally toward each other, and we used that to our advantage.  As we built our defenses we sent patrols out across the city, getting their attention and  drawing them away from our fortifications.  As the horde got larger we simply made sure they stayed far away from us." I thought of the look of terror I'd seen on the family attempting to get fuel at the gas station.  Were they one of his runners, or simply a victim of his creation?  

"Jeff, a month ago you were spouting conspiracy theories and trying to get any girl in the office to pay attention to you. Now you're leading a group of survivors?" He grinned smugly, the kind if smile you'd expect from the nerd who just beat up the star quarterback, and I looked at the faces of the men standing behind him in the distance. They didn't look military, but wore a sturdy clothing underneath makeshift armor. One had a motor cross helmet with red paint spattered all over it, another with a mutli-pocketed vest full of ammunition. The tallest stood near a beat up car, his foot propped up on the bumper, stroking a long thick mustache with one hand and flipped a butterfly knife with his other. All of their faces were dirty and hardened, and they eyes me suspiciously as their fingers hovered over their triggers or ran across blades.  I got the impression that they were being obedient only because it suited them at the moment, and I wondered how much power Jeff truly had over this team of mercenaries. 

I nodded in their direction. "How did you meet these guys?" Jeff looked over his shoulder and a confident, almost cocky smile. "I help them get what they need, and they keep me safe." I faked a smile but felt my veins turn to ice.  Jeff looked behind me at my van. "So, whatcha got in there anyway?" I suddenly understood why his men were waiting patiently behind him. 

"Just a few basic supplies, but barely enough for one person." I said, taking a step back toward the door. I tried to sound non-chalant but I felt warning bells sounding in my brain.  The look in Jeff's eye told me he was no friend, not that he ever was before.  I attempted a peace offering, hoping to stave off the inevitable.  "I have a full box of MREs and a case of water, let me grab them for you." I stepped back again without turning my back. Jeff raised his hands and smiled. "Don't strain yourself, my guys can get them." The men standing behind him immediately snapped to action like a dog who had just been let off it's leash. I side-stepped, trying to block their way, and they looked back at him as though asking permission.  Holding my hands up non-threateningly I kept my eyes on Jeff. "Jeff, don't do this, I'll share what I have." Jeff's smile disappeared. "We don't want some," he said, nodding to his guys. "We're taking it all."  

The men pushed past me and opened the back of the van. Their eyes popped as they saw the supplies, weapons, and tools I had meticulously been gathering and their joyful comments echoed in my ears.  "We hit the jackpot baby!" One called out. Jeff smiled triumphantly and looked me right in the eyes. "Thanks for stopping by," he said with an evil smile.  "The freeway is that way." He pointed to the left down a narrow alleyway. It was barely big enough to walk through and I knew he intended to take everything I had. 

I've never been an aggressive person. I don't pick fights and I wasn't the brave kid in school who stood up to the class bully. I've never thrown the first punch and I've walked away from more fights than I can count, so my first instinct would typically have been to let them have the supplies and find an alternate mode of transportation, but I needed that van and the supplies inside to get to Tracy.  

"Jeff, don't do this, you're not a bad person," I said, trying one last time to appeal to his good side, hoping that either my negotiation skills or his natural goodness would trigger his conscience.  In my heart I knew we were never close enough to give me any more credibility than a common stranger, but I had to at least make the attempt.  "Look, I'm leaving the city, getting out where its safe.  You guys should come with me." He turned and looked at me with a sneer. "We're plenty safe here." He said, and turned back to supervise the unloading of my van into the street.  "I never liked you" he said, his back still facing me. "And I have no idea why she did." His reference to Tracy only infuriated me, and I wondered how he could assumed that of I hadn't been around he would have had a chance with her. I knew her well enough to know that wasn't the case. I wish she was here now. She'd smack him across the cheek and put him in his place. She was brave enough to stand up to every one of these thugs. 

Being as quiet as I could, I reached for the handle of the driver's side door. Before they had time to react I jumped in the van and turned on the ignition. "Hey!" I heard the men call from the back. I pushed on the accelerator and felt the van lurch forward, doors swinging wildly as I spun around. Jeff raised a rifle, firing at the passenger window. Bullets whisked past my head and I felt the spattering glass shards bounce off my cheek.  I ducked and spun the wheel to the right, pushing the accelerator to the floor. The doors on the back flapped, one slamming shut and the other hitting the side of the van. I heard a grunt and looked back just in time to see a wrench swinging toward my head.  One of the mercenaries was still inside!  I leaned to the right and instinctively swung the wheel to the left. The van lurched to its side, almost tipping before landing back on four wheels.  As the momentum caught up with him I felt his body his the double doors on the right. Swinging back to the right again I looked in the rear view to see him grab hold of the tool shelf.  A case of water fell out and skidded across the ground. Jeff and his cronies were still firing as I rounded the corner at the end of the street. 

I leaned forward and reached under my belt to pull my pistol out.  I had never shot a human, at least not a healthy one, and held the gun shakily with one hand as I struggled to maintain course with the other. He looked up at me and froze, but I saw a smile spread across his face slowly. He could tell I was too distracted to do anything, and I pulled my hand back just as he dove forward to grab it. As he leaned toward me I slammed on the brakes and he hit the dashboard hard, his head cracking against the inside of the windshield. 

The cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact and my vision watched the magnificent spiral effect. He seemed dazed and placed both hands on the dash to pull himself up.  As he got to his knees he looked at the broken glass and I saw the color drain from his face.  

Chapter 85- The songs of angry men

He pointed the direction I had come from and I heard a low rumble in the distance.  The ground seemed to shake like distant thunder.  "Last chance, get down here!" I called out. "I'm headed for the mountains, we have a safe place there!" He shook his head and backed away from the edge. "I'm not leaving." His voice trailed off and he disappeared. 

I didn't have time to argue. From his vantage point he could see for miles, and I knew what was headed our way.  I rolled up the window and pushed on the accelerator. The van pulled away steadily in the opposite direction.  

I needed to make it back onto highway 48, the smaller freeway that led west from the city.  As I made my way through the now abandoned streets I was amazed at the destruction that had occurred within such a short time.  Store windows broken, spattered with blood, the carcasses of infected with their heads blown off, and humans half devoured and left to rot. Cars of all shapes were left abandoned, doors opened, their interiors just as their owners had left them when the virus mutated. 

I passed a small sedan with a child inside.  It smashed its face against the glass, smearing the puss from its caked yellow eyes. Swollen teeth snarled at me, snapping at the object it could not obtain. I could only hope that its parents had seen it turn and had the sense to trap it inside. The alternative was too gruesome to imagine. 

I slowed down a bit, the cars in this part of town blocked a good portion of the road. I could still weave in between them or move around them, but it was a lot slower going. The dog in the passenger seat began to whimper, and looking over at the right side I saw a walker, shambling in front of a shoe store. He was tall and wore a basketball jersey and a flat brimmed baseball cap, the brim slightly turned to the left. He was moving toward us, his long, lanky arms swinging back and forth like pendulums as he walked. His eyes were caked in the familiar yellow puss and his jaw hung open, tongue lolling to the side like his hat. 

I was so distracted by him that I didn't notice the barricade ahead of me.  I slammed my breaks on just in time, stopping mere inches from it.  Cars were pushed together in an unatural formation, and other items like doors, window frames, pieces of plywood, and strands of metal interwoven like baskets across the top. Along the upper edge was a series of spikes made from tent stakes, old bent trampoline poles and auto parts. Most were covered in the familiar black blood stains from the corpses that lay heaped at the bottom of the barricade. 

I heard the cocking of a rifle and a voice called out to me. "Who's there?" I laughed at the almost ridiculous question. "Would you even know me if I said my name?" I asked, my tone sarcastic and mocking.  "Well, no I guess" the voice said, uncertainty clouding its typical procedure. "What do you want?" I almost felt like I was ordering from a fast food menu. Here I was, window rolled down, hanging out of a van, some stranger asking me my intentions. "Truthfully?" I asked with a voice full of levity. "I just wanted to get to the freeway, but your little homage to Les Miserables is in my way." The voice was silent. Was he watching me?  Did he go back to ask his superior officer what he should do?  I waited inpatiently for a moment and then decided just to find a different route. 

I put the van in reverse and looked behind me. As I pulled backward I heard a familiar voice. "No freaking way!" I turned back to see Jeff standing on the top of the barricade, a rifle in one hand and megaphone in the other. He wore a red bandana around his head and a black one around his upper arm. His usual pale complexion was replaced with a mild sunburn.  "How are you even still alive?" He asked, taking large steps over the various parts of the barricade as he worked his way to the ground. I smiled and shook his hand, to which he pulled me in for a hug. 

He smelled awful, and his skin was caked with a mixture of dirt, grime and blood.  I almost gagged on the combination and took a step back. "This is quite the operation you have here." I said admiringly. I scanned the barricade with new understanding. Jeff's paranoia was perfectly suited for the apocalypse.  "Do you think it will hold?" I asked, pulling on one of the metal plates and war hocking of come off easily. "That mega horde isn't too far from here and..." Jeff's knowing smile made me lose my train of thought.  "Oh I'm not worried about that." Said Jeff. "We actually created it." 

Chapter 84- Pit Stop

I pulled to the front entrance of the storage facility, knowing I'd never be back. "Thanks Lou, you saved my life." I whispered to the window of the office. In my mind I could still see his grumpy face peering out the window at me, vigilantly monitoring the comings and goings of his life's work. I felt bad not giving him a proper burial, but I simply didn't have time for that now. Maybe someday, when this is all over.

I needed to turn right. That was where the freeway was. I instinctively reached for the turn signal on the steering column and then stopped myself. "Don't think I need to worry about that." I said to myself, smiling a bit. My smile faded as I looked to the left. Was that kid still on the roof?  Had he changed his mind about staying up there?  I didn't bother with an internal debate, I knew what I was going to do. 

I turned left back toward my apartment.  I passed the corpses of the walkers I had smashed in my laps around the storage unit and turned where I first found the van. The swath of the horde had clearly been through this way. Trash and garbage and more piles of that black smelly goo lay strewn across the road, covering almost every inch of its surface. What made them move as a pack?  Why did they stick together?  Was there still some part of their brain that told them they didn't want to be alone, or did they instinctively move together because it gave them the best chance to find food? Perhaps I could discover these mysteries and become the world's first Zombie Anthropologist. Perhaps I could make it on the cover of People magazine's "The world's sexiest people that still happen to be alive" issue. I'd need to wear an ascot and a bright red smoking jacket for my photo shoot. 

One great thing about that mega-horde, it didn't leave stragglers.  It seemed any walker in the area was drawn to it like a magnet. Trash, abandoned vehicles, and a few stripped corpses lay between the piles of sticky goo, but otherwise the streets were empty. I approached the gas station slowly, bending down to see the rooftop on my apartment building above. I didn't see my stalwart friend watching from the edge, and I looked around before getting out. "Kid!" I yelled as loud as I dared. I still didn't know which direction the horde had moved to, and I absolutely didn't want to get their attention. "Hey kid, you up there?" I called again, just a little louder than before. Still nothing.  I was about to leave when I saw a shape up on the roof.  Was that him?  I squinted, the bright sunlight behind making it difficult for me to see clearly. 

I heard a sound behind me and spun around, pointing my rifle at the source. A ragged dog came running out from underneath a broken palette, darting away from me in fear. "Here boy!" I called out. He stopped, looking at me as though slightly confused. I can only assume he took me for one of the infected. He backed up a step, his tail between his legs. I reached into the van and pulled out one of the water bottles and grabbed an MRE from the box. Ripping open the packet I held out the meat pattie. The dog nervously approached, his eyes fixed on me. He stepped within a few inches and stopped. Knowing my movements would scare him I tried to be as still as I could. Standing in one place he stretched his snout out, desperate for the food but not wanting to get any closer than necessary. I leaned forward just a bit and he lunged for the meat, grabbing it and running several yards away. He chewed it voraciously, licking the interior of the packet with canine enthusiasm. 

I looked around for anything I could use as a bowl and saw a hubcap hanging off a car nearby. I kicked it off and saw the dog jump at the sound. He watched me for a moment and went back to licking the package, ensuring every morsel was consumed. As he finished he looked back at me expectantly, as if asking for more. I emptied the bottle of water into the hubcap and saw him approach more rapidly than before. He looked up at me, a little more trusting, and leaned down to drink. While he lapped up the water I unwrapped a packet of crackers and tossed them onto the ground next to the bowl. He stopped and looked at the crackers and then continued drinking. Once he drained the water he snarfed up the crackers and wagged his tail appreciatively.  

"You got any more of that?" I heard a voice call out. I looked up, shielding my eyes from the sun high in the sky. "Sure do." I said, smiling. "I was hoping you we're still alive to accept it." The young man sat on the edge of the roof, dangling his feet idly. "I was kind of hoping you'd reconsider and come with me." I said, calling up to him. He shook his head. "I'm staying here, but thanks for feeding my dog." 

I went to the van and pulled out several packets of MREs.  "This is all I can spare, but you are welcome to it." I said, placing them on top of a case of water.  I looked around, wondering where to put it. "Set it on that bench." He said, gesturing toward the bus station. Graffiti covered the walls, reminding me of the young hooligans who painted their names and various song lyrics all over it. "Poor kids," I thought to myself. "They were probably making a whole new kind of mischief these days." I sat the supplies on the bench and walked back to the van. "Well, good luck!" I called out. "I doubt I'll ever get back, but you are welcome to  use my apartment.  It's the last one on the left."

I climbed into the van and felt the fuzzy body of the dog jump in near my feet. He wriggled he was past my legs and climbed up next to my backpack on the passenger seat. "Wow, you're not quite as shy as you were a minute ago." I said to him, ruffling his fur. 

I poked my head out the window and peered up to my watchful acquaintance. "You're dog doesn't seem to want to stay" I called out.  The teenager just shook his head. "Not really my dogl" he said. "Just thought we were pals. Been tossing scraps to him for over a week."  I looked over at the animal. "You're buddy wants you to stay." I said, looking at the animal.  The dog laid his head down on his paws and close his eyes. "Well, I  guess we're stuck with each other" I stuck my head out the window, waving up.  "Good luck!" I called out.  "You too!" He said, and pointed at the distance. "You better get going!"

Chapter 83- Eye of the Hurricane

I woke up with a start, sitting up rapidly in my seat. It was quiet. The pouding on the door was gone, and I reached up to turn on my headlamp.  I pressed the button several times but nothing happened. Had I left it on?  The batteries must have died...  How long was I asleep?  I rubbed my eyes, trying to push away the fog in my brain and help my vision see in this thick darkness. I shook my head, wishing away the cobwebs that clouded me.  I remember dreaming of Tracy.  She was walking in a forest wearing a white dress, carrying a basket of flowers.  

I reached for my bag and found it sitting on the seat where I had left it. I fumbled in the darkness, my fingers searching for the batteries in the front pocket. I wrapped my hands around a plastic box that rattled when I picked it up. Flipping the plastic clasp upward I reached in and grabbed three triple A batteries.  I pulled the headlamp off my head and blindly tried to find the battery compartment. This was ridiculous, I needed light. 

I turned the key and saw the familiar dials light up, illuminating the cab in green and blue. I could see well enough to get the battery cover off and I tossed the dead ones into the passenger floor before replacing them with fresh alkalines. Clicking it on, I looked around. Everyone seemed intact. I turned the key off and stepped out of the van, looking at the door for signs of damage. 

I immediately noticed light at the bottom edge. It looked like sunlight.  Had I really slept all night?  Perhaps I had underestimated how exhausted I was.  I looked at the light, waiting for the shadows of feet shambling by.  Nothing.  Had they really moved on?  If I had been asleep all night, silently snoozing away in my cozy little cab then there was a real possibility that something else had caught the horde's attention.  Then again, I could raise that door and be greeted by hundreds of undead faces waiting just around the corner.  

I debated internally.  I could wait longer, get some kind of confirmation that they had truly left, or take my chances.  My stomach rumbled.  I must have been asleep for a while because I was starving again.    

I climbed back into the van and reached into the box of MREs in the back.  I stuffed two in my backpack to replenish the ones I had eaten last night.  I needed that bag to be ready to go in case I needed to abandon the rest of the supplies.  I grabbed a third MRE from the box and flipped my knife open, slicing its little plastic belly to get to the goodies inside. I removed the largest packet, inspecting it to understand its contents.  Salsbury Steak.  Not the ideal breakfast, but under the circumstancesI was  grateful to have food at all.  I thought of the kid on the roof of my building.  Was he still alive?  I gave him a chance to come with me, to enjoy a delicious Salsbury Steak dinner.  He chose to stay on the roof.  I shouldn't feel guilty about my meal, should I?  I found it more difficult to swallow the next few bites, and thought through the logistics of sharing at least a few packets of food with him.  Was that merely prolonging the inevitable?  No, it was just human. I bowed my head and whispered a silent prayer over my food and asked for a watchful eye over my young friend.  

I finished my meal and turned my attention back to the decision at hand.  Open the door or stay inside? It was worth a peek at least, right?  I couldn't see any shadows, which either meant they were gone, or the light was positioned in such a way that their shadows wouldn't be cast my direction.    Having no idea what time it was I couldn't tell if the shadows should be there.

I laid down on the dirty concrete floor, angling my head to try and get a glimpse of the road outside.  Pressing my face on the ground, I moved my head left and right, forcing my eye to it's optimum angle in an attempt to get the best view of the exterior.  I could see a few inches out, but no further, and I didn't see any sign of walkers. 

Hopping to my feet, I reached into the can of the can and retrieved one of the rifles. Checking to make sure it was loaded and the safety was off I stood near the corner of the door and reached downward to the handle. I unbolted the gate and lifted slowly, trying to minimize the amount of noise I made.  After lifting up up a few inches I stopped, waiting for the inevitable crash of infected bodies attracted to the sound.  I kept the barrel of my rifle trained on the sunlight streaming through the opening, hyper alert to every sound, but only the soft whisper of a warm breeze pulled in, making a low mournful hum as it slipped past the door.  I reached down and lifted a bit higher, this time about waist high. 

I crouched down and gasped. It was like a tornado came through while I was inside. Garbage was everywhere, strewn across the street like the aftermath of a horrible concert. The smell was awful. Piles of rotten...  What was that exactly?  Small piles of something putrid and black  sat spaced out every few feet. Was it zombie feces?  It would make biological sense, but I had never seen or heard of anything like that. Most of the zombies I encountered were wearing pants too, so unless a number of naked walkers were through here I didn't know how that could even happen. I pulled my shirt out of my jacket and stretched it over my nose, hoping to mask some of the horrible stench. It didnt seem to help. 

Raising the door all the way I stepped out cautiously.  There was no sign of the horde that had been banging down my door just a short while ago.  Had they moved on?  I peered down the long aisles toward the entrance.  Still no sign of life, if you could call it that.  I rushed back to the van and turned the key in the ignition.  The engine roared to life and I shifted into gear and headed toward the entrance.  

Chapter 82- Quick Inventory

As I sat in the darkness I could hear the scratching of bony fingers on the door. They made long, searching scrapes, as though their owners were looking for something, a hole, a handle, anything they could use to open the door and obtain the tasty treat inside. I bit my lip, trying not to make any noise. Even the smallest sound could indicate that I was still here, and I needed them to believe I had gone. 

My stomach gurgled, reminding me of the hunger I had not satiated. I patted my hand around the passenger seat, looking for the backpack I had tossed there while I was loading up.  It contained my 72-hour kit, everything I thought I would need in the event of an emergency. I had stored it in the unit with everything else, something I regretted doing a few days ago when I had reached my apartment. 

I unzipped the front pocket and reached inside. Past a few packets of freeze dried food I clasped my hands around the barrel of a solar powered flashlight. I removed it from the bag and switched it on. The light immediately blinded me and I closed them until my pupils could adjust again. Slowly opening them I felt like a victim of a cave in, stuck inside this small hole hoping someone would come rescue me. The slow banging on the door reminded me that the only rescuers within range probably would be infected by this horrific virus, mutated beyond recognition and now determined to eat me alive. 

I pulled one of the freeze fried packets out and read the printing on the exterior. "Turkey with gravy" it said in a font that reminded me of a dot matrix printer. I found the corner with the easy tear knick and pulled it horizontally. The plastic covered aluminum tore easily and the smell of thanksgiving day filled my nostrils. I pulled the two sides apart forming a sort of cup and reached two fingers down into the pouch. Pulling the patty of meat out about halfway I turned my head sideways and bit into it. It was fantastic. A wave of sensations washed over me and I felt energy flowing into my exhausted muscles. I took another bite, savoring it against my tongue before chewing it and letting it slip down my throat. I'm sure a few weeks ago I would have balked at the prospect of having this as a meal, but in my current situation I felt like I was eating a royal banquet. 

I finished the meat patty and tipped the packet upward, draining every drop of gravy from the pouch. Tossing it out the door onto the floor I reached in the bag for a drink.  I had stocked my bag with a mix of bottles water and sports drinks, and grabbed something blue with a reference to a waterfall on the label. I drank it down thirstily, spilling some of the sticky fluid down my chin and into my shirt. 

Still hungry, I reached into my bag for another packet of food. I pulled out a smaller packet with the words "Chocolate brownie" printed in repetition along the circumference. I tore it open greedily and sank my teeth into the stiff bar of cake. I chewed rapidly, eager for the next bite. Finishing it quickly I grabbed another from my bag and repeated the process. By the time I was done I had devoured "Chicken and Rice," "Ham Slice" and "Pineapple Upside-Down Cake" along with another bottle of sports drink, this one yellow and decorated with lightning bolts.  I tossed the bottle onto the floor below me with the rest of the garbage and leaned back in my chair, stretching my stomach.  

In my enthusiasm for my meal I hadn't even noticed the noise at the door. A few slow, scraping fingers were now replaced by what sounded like dozens of bony hands, some scratching and others banging. The noise was unsettling and I tried to distract myself by taking inventory. I emptied the contents of my bag onto the seat, shuffling my hands through the various items I began organizing them into piles.  A long sleeve shirt, three more food packets, a multi-tool, extra batteries, a rolled up fleece blanket, a rain poncho, four bottles of water, two sports drinks, and a simple first aid kit. 

I put it all back into the backpack, leaving the food and water in a separate pocket in case something leaked. The pounding on the door was getting louder. Either there were more of them or they were getting angrier. The deafening sound echoed inside the small unit and I squinted, trying to drown it out of my thoughts. 

If they came through that door I wanted to be ready. I moved between the seats and turned to the back of the van, climbing over the stacks of bottled water and camping chairs.  This stuff could use a little organization too, but I felt my body calling for sleep and I needed to move quick. 

I grabbed the long plastic case and sat down on a box of MREs. Opening it carefully I admired the shiny black metal of the brand new AR-15. I assembled it rapidly, leaving the scope off. I never had time to sight it in and I couldn't depend on its accuracy. For now I would simply use the iron sights and would probably even end up shooting from the hip. I opened an ammunition box and loaded all four magazines. Placing the first three in the pockets of my thick jacket I slapped the final into the weapon, looking down the sight before resting it between the front seats. 

The pounding on the door was increasing, and I stood up and shone my headlamp through the front windshield to ensure there weren't any breaches. Satisfied that I was still relatively safe in my little coffin I repeated the process with the second gun, loading it and placing it next to its sister in the front. 

Sleep was tugging at my eyes, something that felt impossible with the tumult outside. I moved back up to the front seat and stepped out of the van, carefully inspecting the door one last time. I stood off to the left, shining my light on the center of the door.  The metal door flexed and bent but did not break. The rollers all seemed solid, and there was no sign of stress. I don't know if Lou was the one who commissioned such fine craftsmanship, but the door seemed solid.  

I walked the narrow space to the back of the van and opened the gate. In the crowded room I couldn't open it all the way, but it was enough to get two of the fuel cans out. I uncapped them and poured their contents into the gas tank. I left the others in the back in case something happened to the van. At least that way I could use the cans to fuel up a new vehicle without having to siphon this tank. 

I closed the back and climbed back into the driver's seat, rolling up the windows and leaving the key in the ignition, just in case I needed to quickly start the engine. With the windows rolled up it was hotter, but the sound was muffled a bit and I declined my seat as much as it allowed me and closed my eyes. 

Chapter 81- Claustrophobic circumvention

I felt a wave of adrenaline flow into my muscles, fueling me into rapid action. Rather than carefully place things in the back I began tossing them from where I stood. I reached for the two large ammunition boxes and hefted them onto the bumper, resting momentarily before lifting them again and placing them into the back.  I grabbed the last two boxes, long black plastic cases containing two AR-15 rifles I had purchased at a gun show, and slid them into the back. I closed the doors and looked around the edge of the van. The horde was approaching slowly but steadily.  At their current pace I estimated they would reach me within the next five minutes. Was this that same massive group I had seen at the gas station or merely a small portion of them?  Standing on the back bumper I stood up and looked over the top of the van, hoping to get a better idea of the size of this infected group. They stretched all the way back to the gate and around the corner. It was at least a hundred and there might be hundreds more behind them. 

Driving into the crowd was tempting.  It would be a blast watching those bodies fly left and right as they bounced off the front bumper, however any attempt to do so would be certain death.  I might get into that crowd, and maybe with enough momentum I could get through the first dozen or so, but I would inevitably find myself high centered on a pile of corpses, destined to become one myself shortly thereafter. 

I couldn't exit out the back, at least not without abandoning my supplies, and the odds of me making it far without food, water, and medical supplies were slim.  I couldn't just wait in the van, my experience yesterday proved that.  

The front gate was the only way out that I was aware of, but I needed a way to get past the massive crowd growing ever closer.  I looked behind me and saw the storage unit, now nearly empty except for a few boxes and a couple tarps. The van would fit, but would the door be strong enough?  Immediately Whitney's words echoed in my mind "You only have enough supplies to last a few months, and if this really is the end of the world, well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be facing an army of those things with only 20 gauge corrugated metal to protect me." I looked at the cinderblock walls separating each unit.  Those were solid enough, but once inside there was only one way in or out.  I could park inside, seal the door, and hope they would lose interest before I ran out of food and water.  With their infected minds did they still retain their object permanence?  If they see me go inside would they pound on the door until it broke, or would they eventually get bored and move away?  I don't think I could break down that door with my bare hands, but with the pain centers of their brains eliminated they seemed to have inexhaustible energy, not to mention strength in numbers.  Perhaps something else would get their attention and lure them away.  Either way, my choices were limited. 

I could feel the anxiety in me growing as I climbed into the van and backed it slowly into the unit. The dead faces were getting closer, and I only had a few minutes to spare.  Cutting the engine I hopped out and reached up to the ceiling where the nylon strap which hung from the door handle swung idly in the evening air.  I grabbed it firmly and pulled it down hard, the metal rollers sliding loudly along their tracks. As the door shut the darkness was instant, and the collective moan outside was instantly muffled.  I waited a moment to allow my eyes to adjust. The lights of the van's console only dimly illuminated the cabin, and I instinctively stood still until my eyes adjusted.  As my pupils dilated I looked around the confined space and realized how small this storage unit really was.  Which wasn't a problem until I was trapped inside with a fleet of the undead getting ready to pound down the door.  I could smell the grisly rotted remains of the zombies stuck to the front grill and I started feeling nauseous and claustrophobic.  

As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness I made my way back to the driver's seat and stared at the illuminated dials. The soft green lights were comforting as I sat in near darkness, but I knew I didn't want to endure this only to find myself with a dead battery afterwards. I reluctantly turned the key and removed it from the steering column, plunging myself into complete darkness.