Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage (8 page)

First stop, however, was Nicole’s house, so she could grab a few things. Since it was close by, I didn’t protest.

Much.

“Don’t take long,” I said, pulling the Jeep into the driveway. “That means five minutes. Also, don’t grab more than you can fit on your lap.”

“I won’t. You guys can come in,” Nicole said, hopping out.

Peaches looked at me. “I actually have to use the bathroom.”

I shrugged. “I’ll wait here. Remember, the clock is ticking.”

While they were inside, I got out of the Jeep and surveyed the street. Chestnut Drive. So far I didn’t see any infected. I kept the rifle on my back just in case that changed.

Two minutes later I was bored, which got me thinking, which ultimately led to me remembering something Nicole had said earlier during fun story time.

I swear I heard sounds coming from the shed.

Did you really?

Curiosity led me around the side of the house, over the chain-linked fence, and into Nicole’s backyard.

I had to be catlike, fast and quiet. Because I was up to no good. Because I didn’t want either of the girls knowing, especially Nicole. It was her husband in there, after all, the man she had promised to love until death parted them—the man she’d killed with a pair of gardening shears. Or had she?

I crept around the shed, looking for any weak spots. It was old, and there were many sections where rust had settled in, but I didn’t spot any holes. If an animal had gotten in there, it couldn’t have been larger than a mouse.

I went around to the front. There was a giant padlock on the door to keep thieves out, or infected in. I stood there listening, thinking I heard movement on the other side. The sound of shuffling feet. So I did what anyone would do in my position, I lightly tapped on the shed door. And something tapped back, only it was more like a hand pushing against the metal door, trying to open it. When it began uttering guttural growls from its mouth, I had heard enough.

I was back in the driver’s seat of the Jeep only seconds before Peaches emerged from the front door.

“Miss me?” she asked.

“Of course.”

She got into the passenger seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You just look a little pale.”

I
felt
a little pale.

She sat up with her knees on the seat and looked around. “You see anyone?”

I shook my head.

Nicole came out of the house with a backpack around one shoulder. I expected more.

“Got everything?” I asked.

She nodded and got in the backseat. “I’m ready.”

So was I.

Ten minutes later, heading west down the highway, driving mostly off road, we came upon the blue Mack truck Peaches and I had used for shelter. I slowed down and stopped the Jeep, looked around. There was very few infected on the highway anymore, and those that I did see were a good distance away. As we went further west, however, we’d undoubtedly run into more and more.

“Disgusting,” Nicole said, looking down at the mangled corpse of a man not three feet from the Jeep. “This is where you guys camped?”

“No,” Peaches said. “We camped in the woods.”

I walked over and looked down at the corpse. I believe this guy was the one who had been sleeping against the front of the Jeep—the one I’d shot dead in the head. Flies circled what was left of his body. Most of his flesh was gone, right down to the bone. His ribcage had been pried apart and his chest hollowed out like a pumpkin.

I wasn’t gonna ask either of the girls what they thought could have done this. After the experience at the shed, I think I knew. Nor would I point out that many of the other bodies had disappeared since we’d last been there.

All would be revealed, in good time.

We found our way back to the campsite without much trouble, and that was only because Peaches had led the way. Had I been in the lead we probably would have ended up miles off course.

The camp looked different in the light of day.

Nicole and Peaches sat down near the small black pit that was once a fire, while I unzipped the lone tent Robinson and company had left for us. Inside was way more stuff than I could fit into the Jeep, even if I had the will to carry it back to the highway. There were two guns, a rifle similar to the one on my back, and a shotgun. Next to the guns was a cardboard box with various smaller boxes of ammunition stacked inside it. Beside that box was another box with just food in it, mostly MRE’s, but also rice and dried beans. But most importantly, there was a map with a sticky note on it.

It said,
I hope you found this in time.

I checked my watch. 5:18 p.m.

I hope I did too, I thought, as I took off the note and opened up the map. They had circled a section in red to indicate the location of the Walgreens. Narcoossee was the name of the road. I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t too far down the highway, before the Airport. Fifteen miles, perhaps. We might get there right in time.

I folded the map back up as best I could and then shoved it into the box with the ammo. Then I carried it and the two guns out of the tent and set them down on the ground. It seemed incredibly stupid to leave behind the food, but I didn’t see how we could get it to fit in the Jeep, and we already had a box of food in there.

“Good news,” I said, smiling. “The place isn’t far. We should make it.”

Assuming nothing got in our way, naturally.

“Great,” Peaches said. “I suppose you expect us to carry stuff now.”

“In a minute. I’m gonna check something first.”

“What?”

“Something … you both stay here.”

I wandered off from the campsite with no fear of getting lost. I knew exactly where I was going. Before long, I was looking down on Diego again, just as I had after he had committed suicide. Only, his body was unrecognizable. Like the man by the highway, like the ones in the street near Nicole’s house, something had filled up on his flesh.

Something?

Behind me, a sudden scream, and then Peaches yelling my name repeatedly.

I turned, ran.

When I got back to the campsite, I stood in shock as a small child was attached to one of Nicole’s legs. But not just any child, the cute, round-faced, little girl I’d shot in the heart and left to die. One of her legs was missing below the knee.

“Get it off me!” Nicole screamed, trying to pull her leg free.
“Please!”

I pulled out Sally and almost took a shot, but Nicole was moving around too much. So I moved closer to get a better look, and that’s when I saw the blood trickling down from Nicole’s leg. The little girl was holding on by her teeth.

With my free hand, I grabbed the little girls remaining foot and yanked her off Nicole. She immediately turned and went after me, but I stepped back and shot her twice. Once in the shoulder and once in the back.

And yet, she kept coming, crawling after me on her belly, her face blue and gray, moaning, while Nicole’s blood—and possibly even Diego’s—poured out of her open mouth.

The third shot would put an end to her for good.

The third shot was to the head.

I hovered, not too close, around the corpse of the little girl, still in shock at what had occurred. On the other side of the camp, Nicole was crying out in pain. Peaches was beside her.

“Jimmy, do we have a first aid kit?” Peaches asked.

I walked over to the girls, bent down to look at Nicole’s leg. Then I looked up at Peaches and shook my head. “We did. It was in the box we left in Ted’s driveway.”

“It hurts … so … so bad,” Nicole cried.

The little girl had taken a good-sized chunk off Nicole’s calf, exposing some of the muscle tissue.

“We need to stop the bleeding,” Peaches said.

“There’s … a shirt,” Nicole said, grimacing in pain. “In my … my pack.”

I unzipped Nicole’s backpack and got out the shirt. Then handed it to Peaches.

“She’s gonna need some drugs or something,” Peaches said. “Otherwise there’s a good chance this might get infected.”

I had a feeling, it already was.

Five minutes later, I was positive.

Nicole had stopped crying. Her face slowly lost color, and she had trouble keeping her eyes open.

“Stay with us,” Peaches said. She had Nicole’s head resting in her lap next to Olivia.

Nicole looked up at her and said, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Peaches put her hand on Nicole’s forehead. “You feel hot.”

“Do I?” Nicole spoke slow and soft. “I feel fine now … just … fine.”

Peaches looked up at me pacing around the campsite. “We have to go into town, try and find her some meds.”

I checked my watch. 5:35 p.m.

“We have twenty-five minutes to meet the others.”

“Jimmy, if we don’t do something, she might…”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence. A minute later, Nicole was completely unresponsive.

“You better get away from her,” I said. “She’s going fast.”

“I think … I think she might already be gone,” Peaches said, feeling for a heartbeat.

“Then get away from her.”

Peaches gently set Nicole’s head down on the ground, hoisted Olivia up, and then walked over beside me. “I don’t understand. That little girl was dead. You shot her. We saw her die.”

I nodded. “I guess she woke back up.”

Peaches shook her head in disbelief. “And Nicole … how did she die so fast … from a bite? How does that make sense?”

I had an answer, but I wasn’t ready to share it yet. I sat down on the ammo box and stared at Nicole’s lifeless body, waiting.

“Shouldn’t we go?” Peaches asked. “We don’t have much time, and I … I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“We’ll go in a minute.”

“Why are we waiting?”

Because I had to see, that’s why.

I had to
know.

Peaches grabbed Nicole’s backpack with her free hand and sat down beside me. She pulled out some photos and flipped through them.

“This must have been her husband,” she said, flashing me one of the photos. “Not a bad looking guy.”

I didn’t look at it. I didn’t even turn my head. I continued staring at Nicole lying still, Sally in my hand, finger on the trigger, ready and waiting. Exhausted, sweating from the heat, breathing slowly to calm my heartbeat.

And waiting…

*

Everything was about to change.

Again.

I sat on a box of ammunition, my gun pointed at a dead woman named Nicole, waiting and wondering how in the hell it had come to this. A nice, caring, voluptuous former prostitute named Peaches sat next to me. In her arms was a baby, only days old, that we had named Olivia.

Not my girl. Not my baby. Both my responsibility.

How in the
hell
had it come to this?

I shut my eyes momentarily and dreamed of two weeks ago—dreamed I was in my quaint little home above the bookstore, lying in my bed, eating ice cream, watching television. There was no outbreak yet. No virus. No people on the television dressed in hazmat suits. No containment zone. No sleeping victims. The twenty-four hour news cycle stuck like herpes to everyone’s favorite topic, the upcoming presidential election. The talking heads talked and talked and talked—filled the airwaves with hot air. Would the president lose because of the poor economy? Did the presumptive republican nominee
really
wear magic underwear?

Who cares? I sure didn’t.

Days later, no one else would either, even the talking heads. It’s the ultimate cliché, but it all happened so fast.

Now, however, with my eyes shut, dreaming of better times, the world seemed as though it couldn’t turn any slower. Just when I thought I had it all figured out…

Everything was about to change.

I opened my eyes, checked the time.

5:41 p.m.

“Well…” Peaches said.

“Less than twenty minutes.”

Peaches had finished going through Nicole’s backpack and now sat rocking Olivia. “We’re never gonna make it in time. Not with the highway all jammed up like it is.”