Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage (13 page)

“Where are you?”
Ted yelled through the radio secured to Robinson’s hip.
“We can’t hold them off much longer!”

The little speaker on the walkie crackled with each gunshot, and I swore I heard shouting in the background. I prayed Peaches and Olivia were at least inside one of the SUV’s.

Robinson snatched the radio off his belt, fumbling it in his hands as he felt around for the talk button. His pace slowed even further, slowing me down with him. No matter what, I wouldn’t leave him behind.

“Hold on,” Robinson said into the receiver. “We’re almost there.”

But we
weren’t
almost there, and Robinson had to know it too, despite what he had told Ted. At our current
dwindling
pace, we were still a good thirty seconds out, and the infected hot on our heels were forty and gaining.

“We can’t do this,” I said. “We’re just leading them to the group. We’ll get everyone killed.”

“We don’t have enough rounds to hold them off by ourselves.”

We slid out of sight between two humvees. “We need to hide. Now’s our chance.”

“They’ll see us here, Jimmy,” Robinson said.

“Not here. There.” I pointed at a large supply truck off to the right.

Behind us, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. We had less than ten seconds until they’d come around the corner, securing us back into their sights, most likely for good.

Thankfully, Robinson had been saving up one last burst of energy, enough to sprint for the back of the supply truck and hoist himself into the bed. I helped pull him in and under a thick green cloth normally used to cover supplies, now for the purpose of covering
us
.

Had we made it in time, or had they seen us?

We’d find out in
three … two … one.

We held our heads down, the cloth tight against the backs of our heads, and listened as the top runners of the infected class passed us by. We also heard more gunfire.

“Tell them to go,” I whispered.

Robinson spoke softly into the walkie. “Ted. You have to go without us. More are coming.”

“It’s just me and Bowser. The others have left already,”
Ted answered back quickly.

“Listen to me. We’ll be okay. We found a place to hide.” Robinson wisely kept his voice down, and even more wisely made sure the radio’s volume wasn’t at full blast, for when Ted yelled into the other side.

“But we can’t just leave you!”

“Yes, you can. Now shut up and go. Please.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Ted said,
“I’ll come back for you.”

Robinson set the radio down. Outside, the infected continued past the truck, though it seemed their numbers had thinned quite a bit. Ten seconds later, the last of them ran by, while the gunfire had stopped completely.

I could feel Robinson next to me, could hear him breathing, but I couldn’t see his face. As we rested there in silence, huddled in the back of a supply truck that smelled like burnt cabbage, realizing how lucky we were to still be alive (even if our luck would only be temporary), to have a moment to gather ourselves, to allow our heart rates to go down, I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was.

What the fuck were we gonna do now?

We hid for what felt like a half hour under the heavy green cloth before the noises outside finally ceased. The infected had slowly—and I mean
s l o w l y
—made their way by us, most likely heading back for the interstate. During this time, Robinson and I had hardly said a word to one another. He used the radio a few times early on, asking, whisper quiet, if Ted was on the other end, if he could hear us. If
anyone
could hear us.

No one answered.

Once we began to hear the sound of footfalls outside, he set the radio down between us, the volume on its lowest setting, and waited until the area was clear—or at least, until it
sounded
clear.

Now it was time to try the radio again.

Ted had said he’d come back for us. I believed him because I think he meant it when he said it. But that was twenty, thirty minutes ago. They could have been held up, run into more trouble. They could be dead. Peaches. Olivia. All of them. Dead. The thought crept into my mind and sat there like an anchor, festering, pulling me down and drowning me in dread.

Robinson picked up the radio, pushed the talk button. “Ted, come in.” He let go of the button, waited for a response. Hearing none, he pushed the talk button again. “Hello, can anybody hear me? Hello?”

No response.

Robinson sighed, set the radio down again.

“How much longer should we wait?” I asked, still keeping my voice down.

“I don’t know.”

“The coast might be clear now.”

It sounded ridiculous once I heard it played back in my mind.
The coast might be clear.
Sure, it might. Or maybe the infected hadn’t gone back to the interstate. Maybe they knew we were in here all along. Maybe they had the truck surrounded, and planned on waiting us out. Wouldn’t be the first time they’d done such a thing. The coast might be clear, or we might walk right into a trap. Then again, without as much as a chirp on the other end of the walkie, what other choice did we have?

“Let’s take a peek,” Robinson said.

Gradually we lifted the green cloth until it was just high enough for us to see out. I looked around for a good while, back and forth, feeling satisfied. Then I looked over at Robinson. It was the first time I’d seen his face since we’d taken refuge in the supply truck. He also looked satisfied. The coast
was
clear.

“Should we go?” I asked.

Robinson nodded. “The question is where. We definitely need to get off the highway.”

Getting off the highway had my vote as well.

We lifted the green cloth completely off our heads. Finally, I could breathe again. I sucked in a good dose of the fresh, albeit hot and humid, Florida night air.

“You ready?” Robinson asked, clipping the radio back on to his belt.

I nodded, and then we carefully—quietly—slid our feet off the back bumper.

“Wouldn’t do that,” a low voice said over the radio. “Not yet.”

Robinson and I froze, looked at each other with the grimmest of faces, and then lifted our legs back into the truck.

“Was that…”

“Ted,” Robinson whispered into the receiver. “Was that you?”

“Of course it’s me.”

“Sorry, I got the volume low. We could barely hear you.”

“That’s good. Keep the volume low.”

“I don’t understand. Where are you?”

“I’m across the way. Behind the convention center.”

“Can you see us?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

“Night vision binoculars.”

Ted really was Mr. Prepared. In a weird way, it was like he was living his dream.

“Ask him if everyone is okay,” I whispered.

“Did everyone make it out okay?” Robinson asked.

“Yeah, everyone is fine. A little shook up, especially the girls, but no serious injuries.”

I relaxed. “Thank God.”

“Me and Jimmy were getting a little worried when we couldn’t get you on the radio,” Robinson said.

“Sorry. I guess these things don’t have quite the range advertised. Plus I wanted to get everyone settled somewhere safe before I came back for you.”

“So … everyone isn’t with you?”

“Nope. By myself. Peaches fought to come along but I wouldn’t let her. No point in putting anyone else in jeopardy, especially since I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to find you guys.”

“Where did you leave them?”

“A barn nearby.”

“A
barn?
”

“You’ll see … but first things first, we need to get you out of there safely. I’ll help you. I’ll be your eyes. There’s a large group closing in on your position from the east, and another smaller group not far behind them. The first group will be upon you in less than a minute. Don’t say anything. Keep quiet. Keep still. Stay hidden. I’ll be your eyes. I’ll check back in when it’s safe. Okay?”

“Okay, thank you, Ted.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Just as Ted instructed, we kept our heads down, kept quiet, and waited for a new group of infected to pass by. Judging by the sound, the group was almost as large as the one that had chased us from the interstate, and moved just as slow. I wondered if this group contained remnants of the Walgreen's crew, but on further thought, I realized it was impossible. Narcoossee Road had to be over ten miles east of us. No way could they walk that distance in an hour or so.

Finally, Ted felt it was safe enough to get back in touch with us.

“Robinson?”

“I’m here. What do you see?”

“The first group has passed. One more to go. The next one’s real small.”

“How small?”

Ted didn’t respond right away. I imagined him looking through the binoculars counting heads. “Six. The highway looks clear behind them. So once they’re out of the way you should be fine. Again, keep out of sight until they pass and wait for my word.”

We waited, hearing footsteps gradually get closer, louder, and then further away. If there were only six, they should be by us in no time. And yet, even after the last of the sounds faded completely, we hadn’t heard a peep from Ted. I worried that his position had become compromised.

“What’s taking him so long?” I finally whispered, as if Robinson would somehow know the answer.

“I don’t know,” Robinson whispered back. “We’ll give him a little more time.”

We gave him a minute, and then Robinson picked up the radio and said, “Ted, come in.”

“Hey,” Ted said. “We can talk, but you have to keep your voice down. I’ll do the same.”

“Is there a problem? Is there more coming?”

“No, not that I can see,” Ted said. “But part of that last group disappeared.”

“What do you mean … disappeared?”

“I watched all six of them walk into the convoy, but only four walked out.”

“So two are nearby? You didn’t see where they went?”

“I couldn’t. There’s too many vehicles. From where I’m standing I’ve got a good view of the back of your truck, but I can’t see everything. I can’t see
through
vehicles. They disappeared behind one and never emerged.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t miscount?”

“I might be a redneck, but I know how to count. And I’ve been hunting all my life, so I certainly know how to scout. Trust me, there was six, and only four came out the other end. Somewhere in that maze, you got company.”

Robinson sighed. “Well, what should we do then?”

“Nothing yet. Good news is … wherever they are they must not hear you talking to me. No one is making a run at your truck. It’s quiet out here. Hell, maybe they branched off from their friends and crossed to the other side of the highway or something. I’ll see if I can spot them from a different angle. Hold on.”

Okay, Wilson Phillips, we’ll hold on. Like we had any other choice. I was getting frustrated. It was hot under the green cloth, and the more Robinson talked the more it smelled of potato chips. He must have loaded up his belly with junk food while he was barricaded inside of the Walgreen's. Damn him. I was starving, and I loved junk food. I could eat it all day and never gain a pound. Yep, I was one of
those
people.

Five minutes passed.

Robinson and I remained still, silent, and increasingly sweaty. This was like the worst game of hide-and-go-seek ever. I almost wanted to be found, just so I’d be forced out in the open again where I could run free like a wild horse—or a human with infected people chasing him. I couldn’t stand much more of Robinson’s sour cream and onion breath.

“Well…” Ted finally said over the radio. “I don’t know where they went. I searched the perimeter from a few different angles, and still didn’t see them. Like I said, they might have crossed over the highway. Seems like the most logical possibility. Other than that, I don’t have a clue.”

“All right, I guess we’re just gonna have to take our chances. There was only two anyway.”

“Right. As long as you still got your guns, you should be fine.”

“We do.”

“Good. Just don’t use them unless you have no other choice.”

We quietly lifted off the green cloth so we could see out again, and then just like before, swept our legs off the back bumper. I took Sally out and made sure she was ready to fire. Robinson did the same.

“You guys see me?” Ted asked. “I’m to your right.”

Robinson and I scanned the distance. Between some trees and a hundred yards of open space, I could barely make out Ted standing in the large empty parking lot behind the convention center. He waved his arms back and forth over his head to help us identify his location.

“We see you,” Robinson answered.

“Okay then, be careful.”

“Yep. Got it.” Robinson secured the radio back on to his belt and then turned to give me his signature thumbs up. “Let’s roll.”

We hopped out of the supply truck. I cringed at the sound of our shoes smacking against the concrete, hoping it didn’t draw any attention. If there were any attention to draw.