Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage (21 page)

Olivia’s baby bag? Check.

Jax’s makeshift dog bowls? Check.

Aamod’s shotgun? Double check.

“Okay, we good to go?” Ted asked. Everyone nodded. “If you gotta use the restroom, better do it now.”

He was like a dad making sure us kids were in line before piling into the car to head off on vacation.

Ted’s post-apocalyptic family vacation.

“Last chance to get those handcuffs,” I said.

“Go for it,” Robinson replied. “There yours if you want them.”

“Um, I wouldn’t recommend going out there,” Ted said. “It’s not pretty.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Robinson added. “It’s absolutely revolting. And let me tell you I’ve seen some grim scenes in my line of work.”

“Worse than the old woman’s head?” I asked.

Robinson and Ted exchanged a glance.

“I think so,” Ted said. “Have you ever heard of Gallagher?”

“No.”

“That’s not surprising. You’re a little young. Gallagher was this comedian who would use a large mallet to smash fruit on stage, mainly watermelons. It always got a laugh. Pieces would fly everywhere, often out into the crowd.” He paused. “You see where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah, you’re saying Aamod did a great impersonation of this comedian guy.”

“Exactly. Only he didn’t use fruit and it wasn’t funny. Otherwise … spot on.”

We weren’t back on the road long before civilization, or the last remains of it, reared its ugly head again. Gone were the two lane county roads that snaked through miles and miles of lush green trees. Back were the endless number of abandoned cars and ravaged properties—the occasional black smoke in the sky, and the burning smell that accompanied it. And who could forget everyone’s favorite, the infected.

The towns we passed through were much smaller than Orlando, so the groups of infected weren’t nearly as large. Nor did they seem too concerned with us as we rolled by. Unless you did something to set them off, they’d usually just keep walking, keep heading north. Still, we kept our eyes open. Remained vigilant.

Due to the decreased volume of cars, at least compared to the mess in the city, we were finally able to connect with Highway 50 in a town called Brooksville. According to Ted, who would chirp in every now and then over the walkie-talkie, we could ride 50 west the rest of the way to the gulf coast. It turned out to be no more than a thirty-minute drive.

“Bravo team,”
Ted said over the radio.

“Go ahead,” Bowser said back.

Ahead of us, Ted pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a small shopping plaza. “There’s a little mom and pop store here. Looks untouched. Might have the baby stuff we need.” 

Robinson slowed down, followed Ted into the parking lot. The plaza had only three stores. A tattoo shop, a bail bondsman, and what appeared to be a local grocery store. We pulled as close to the building as possible and then got out of the car.

From the outside, the mom and pop grocery didn’t look much bigger than your average gas station. Once inside, it felt even smaller. And while Ted was right that it didn’t look like looters had ransacked the place—nothing looked broken or trashed—the lack of useful items to take was probably the reason why. The store smelled like old dust and dead dreams, as though the owners had closed up shop and deserted the place long before the virus swept into town.

“This is lovely,” I said, walking the cramped aisles, wiping away the dust and checking the dates on the occasional item. “All of this stuff is expired.”

“You think diapers can go bad?” Peaches asked.

“They go bad all the time,” I said. “Usually not long after Olivia eats.”

Peaches smiled. “You know what I mean.” She went ahead of me, around to the next aisle.

We left the store moments later, diaper-less. In fact, there was no baby stuff at all.

“Not a total waste of a stop though,” Robinson said, carrying two medium sized bags of dog food, one over each shoulder.

“Is it in date?”

“Don’t know. Jax won’t care anyway.”

“Still…” I said.

“He’ll live.” Robinson loaded the dog food into the back of the SUV. Jax perked up, sniffed the bags, very interested. “See, told you he wouldn’t care. Can’t be too picky. Gotta take what he can get from now on. We all do.”

I guess if I could survive eating some of the food from Aamod’s convenience store, Jax would have no problem digesting some old kibble.

We hopped back into the cars.

“Be on the lookout,” Ted said over the radio. “Should be some larger stores to raid somewhere around here. Looks like we’re coming up on a road called Commercial Way. We’ll take that north up the coast.”

“And what’s this town called?” Robinson asked.

There was a delay before Ted answered. He might have been checking the map. “Weeki … Wachee. I think that’s the name.”

Weeki Wachee?
Really?

Who got drunk and named that town?

We continued down Highway 50 until we reached Commercial Way. On the corner was a Winn-Dixie, the beef people. Unlike mom and pops up the road, the Winn-Dixie parking lot was full of cars, though not nearly as bad as the Walmart we’d raided on day one—
the greatest car clusterfuck.
This time, we could actually pull the vehicles pretty close to the front of the store.

We got out, walked up. The front doors must have been locked, but that didn’t stop the looters. Big chunks of dark tinted glass lay all over the ground near the entrance. Since very little of the glass remained attached to the doors, it was easy to sneak inside without being cut. Still, we took our time entering the store. If I fancied hurting myself, I’d just think back to when I first watched the Star Wars prequels. Ouch, painful.

“I’ll stay back,” Ted said. “Keep an eye on the cars.”

Robinson nodded. “We should only be a minute.”

Aamod and Naima (who now held Olivia) also elected to stay back and wait with Ted at the front entrance.

The remaining four of us soldiered on inside the store. The interior conditions of the Winn-Dixie were anything but surprising. Shopping carts, many filled to the brim, clogged up every lane. Displays lay in shambles, their contents strewn about everywhere. Broken bottles leaked their sticky innards all over the floor. Even by Winn-Dixie standards, it was a disaster zone. And that’s saying a lot.

We walked by the service desk. There wasn’t a single cigar or pack of cigarettes left behind the counter. Totally cleaned out. It was good to know that when bad times come people focus on the important stuff. The beer section was probably just as empty, but we wouldn’t waste our time finding out.

The further we walked from the front of the store, the harder it became to see the broken bits of glass or mashed up Captain Crunch at our feet. The overhead lights were off, the main downside to having no power, just barely edging out not being able to hear Michael Bolton sing
How am I supposed to live without you?
I feared the days of backup generators were probably in the past. Lucky for us the large windows up front let enough sunlight in to keep us from clicking on flashlights.

We checked the signs above each aisle until we found the one with the baby stuff.

“Here,” Peaches said, leading us down an aisle mid store.

“Well, there’s lots to choose from,” Robinson said. “I guess diapers weren’t most people’s number one priority.”

“I know I hadn’t really thought to get any,” I said. “Not until we found Olivia in the hospital. My grandma didn’t wear diapers. Though I’m still surprised we didn’t find any back at Sam’s house. He looked like he was carrying a load in his pants.”

Robinson laughed. “The overalls did make it look that way.”

Peaches pulled a bunch of different packs of diapers off the shelf and read the labels. After finding the correct size, the smallest size, she handed the packs off to Robinson and I. Then she loaded Bowser up with powdered formula and new bottles.

“That should be good for now,” she said.

“You sure?”

She thought for a moment, and then nodded. “I think so.”

We navigated the maze of food and carts back to the front entrance of the store, surprised to find we had extra company waiting for us when we arrived. A slender woman, upper twenties to thirties, with fair skin and fiery red hair, stood next to Ted.

“I tried getting you on the walkie,” Ted said.

“It’s in the car,” Robinson replied. “Who’s this?”

“My name’s Cathy,” the woman said. “I live close by.”

“Cathy has a bit of a problem,” Ted said.

“Don’t we all,” Bowser said. He lifted the back gate and we put the baby supplies in the back of the SUV.

“What’s the problem?” Robinson asked.

“It’s my husband Brian … he’s missing.”

“A lot of people are missing,” Robinson replied. “Most don’t want to be found. If your husband was infected, he’s probably long gone. And I’m sorry to say, he ain’t coming back.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Cathy said. “Brian wasn’t infected, at least not when he left this morning.”

“Why did he leave then?”

“He went with a neighbor of ours to get supplies. Theo needed medication. He’s an older man. Has a heart condition. There’s a Walmart about ten minutes from our house, and they have a pharmacy. But they never returned. They said they’d be back in less than an hour. That was…” She checked her wristwatch. “That was five hours ago.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the Walmart then looking for him, if that’s where he went? What are you doing here?”

“I went to the Walmart, as close as I could get to it. The parking lot is blocked off with cars, and there’s armed men walking around. So I thought that maybe they went somewhere else. But I’ve been all over town for hours now, checking a ton of stores, and haven’t seen any sign of either of them. I’m afraid something terrible might have happened.”

Robinson had Cathy get in the passenger seat, and upon her direction, drove us south down Commercial Way. It was just the three of us and Jax, who now without Peaches hogging the other half of the seat, could sit right beside me. The others stayed back. Not by choice. Robinson’s orders. For some reason, he let me come along. I certainly wasn’t the best shot out of all of us, should something happen and we run into trouble, perhaps with the armed guards Cathy spoke of. Ted was easily the best shot. He had taught me, after all. I think Robinson just trusted me the most. He saw me as his partner in training—his Barney Fife, only he let me keep bullets in my gun.

We stopped five miles down at the entrance to the Walmart parking lot. There was a blockade of cars, just as Cathy had said, but not of the usual variety we were used to seeing—the cars whose drivers had fallen into sudden comas. These cars were deliberately lined end to end to prevent anyone from driving on to the property, like a fence line of motor vehicles.

“You weren’t kidding,” Robinson said. “Somebody went through a lot of work to block this off.”

“From what I could tell, it goes all the way around back too,” Cathy said.

“Where were these guards you saw?”

“The guys I saw were hanging out near the entrance. You can’t see it from here. There’s just too many trees and stuff in the way. I didn’t even notice them at first. I came in from Osowaw at the last light we passed. It’s the quickest way from my house.”

Robinson did a U-turn and headed back north, taking a left at the first intersection. Osowaw. It led us to a side entrance, which was blocked off just like the main entrance, though it did get us closer to the actual building. We got out of the car, ducked behind a white Toyota, and cautiously scanned the parking lot.

“There,” I said, pointing to someone walking around the tire and lube area toward the back of the store. They walked slowly, taking in their surroundings. It was too far away to tell how old they were, or even if they were male or female. But I could see they had light skin, a solid blue shirt on, and bleach blond hair. In their hands was either a long gun or some sort of wooden club.

“Is that one of the people you saw?” Robinson asked.

“No, I don’t think so. That one looks new. The guys I saw were bigger, rougher looking.”

“Is this the same spot you were standing when you saw them?”

“This is where I parked, but I didn’t see them until I got closer to the front entrance. See, I climbed over one of the cars and headed across the parking lot. I was just gonna go in and see if Brian and Theo were still in there. This was maybe three hours after they said they’d be back. About two hours ago.”

“Why’d you wait so long to go look for them?”

“Brian told me not to,” Cathy replied. “He said if they didn’t come back after a few hours then they must have run into trouble, and for me to … for me to stay at home.” Her voice started to crack, emotion flooding out. “He didn’t want me leaving the house to look for him. He said it was too dangerous. But what was I supposed to do … just sit there by myself and wonder what happened? I had to go looking for him. I love him. He’s my husband. I tried to stay positive, thinking maybe they just had trouble finding the meds in the pharmacy or something. But I got about halfway to the entrance when I saw the guys with guns come outside, and then I got really worried. Brian and Theo both had guns too, but only to protect themselves from the crazy infected people. These guys I saw looked like they were guarding the store. I was scared they’d see me, so I hid for a little while, and then slowly made my way back to my car. I wasn’t gonna confront them. Who knows what they’d do with me.”