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.
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