Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (12 page)

“Anyway,
where to the south are you going? Not Mexico I hope. That place has to be a
mess. The government has super strict gun laws. The people, aside from the drug
lords, are completely disarmed. They would have had a lot more trouble
defending themselves than us, and from what I’ve seen we haven’t done all that
well.”

“We have
no intention of going to Mexico,” said Joan flatly. “We are going to the
ocean.”

I
paused. “You’re kidding?”

“We are
not.” She seemed indignant at the mere suggestion of such a thing.

“Really?”

“Yes,
really.” Now she was getting mad.

I
shrugged. “Good luck with that plan, but I’m pretty sure you’ll never make it.”

Before
Joan could slap me, Stan grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Stop
that, now.”

“This
idiot…”

“I mean
it Joan.”

She
grumbled something and stomped away.

“Sorry
about her. She was always a bit off, and it’s gotten worse. When she gets an
idea in her head, well, you know how it can be with some people.”

“Maybe
some Prozac,” suggested Briana.

A slight
smile cracked Stan’s face. Then he turned back to me. “Why not the ocean?”

“I don’t
know the exact demographics, but I’d say half the American population lives
within a hundred miles of the ocean. People on the coast itself, along with
those nearby, would have immediately thought it presented safety. After all,
they know that zombies aren’t going to be walking across the water to get at
them.”

“We
hope,” added Briana.

“And,” I
continued, “that means a very large number of people headed right for the water
to get to safety. They would have taken every available boat and probably
launched without securing any supplies, assuming that was an option. The odds
of you finding enough boats or big enough ones for this many people is low to
start with.”

“Then we
have the fact that most are kept in the harbors and marinas, generally in or
next to major cities. You’ll have to fight your way through a whole lot of the
dead just to get to them. That’s a big risk when the odds of finding something
usable are low to start with, but if you do it, I’d suggest having your cars
stocked with as much supplies as you can scrounge ahead of time.”

“We hit
a grocery store outside Omaha,” said Stan. He pointed at a pair of U-Hauls.
“They’re loaded up. We’ve tried for a few others too, not as successfully, but
we should be okay.”

“That’s
good. Now, the next problem will be the situation on the water. Even if a boat
is loaded with stuff, it’s going to eventually run out, especially fresh water.
You’re going to have to land to get more, and, like I said, the coastal areas
are full of people. The living may want to take your boat so they can get away
themselves. Zombies will want to do what they do. Every stop’s going to be
dangerous. Some people won’t want to take the risk. They’d rather force others
to do it or steal from them. There will be pirates. There will be violence.
It’s going to be a mess.”

“We have
a large group,” said Stan, “over a hundred.”

“Hope
you’re well armed.”

He
shifted uncomfortably. I took that as a negative answer.

“And
remember that there are no more refineries. You have to fuel those boats. The
diesel or whatever they use is going to run out real fast, and it can’t be
replaced. There are sure to be sailing boats out there, but those’ll tend to be
tiny personal craft. Besides, they’re hard to use if you don’t know how. At
least, I think so. I’ve never tried it myself.”

“I’m
agreeing with Jacob,” said Briana. “The coast is a deathtrap. We never even
considered it.”

Stan looked
at the car where his cousin was waiting, her arms crossed as she glared through
the windshield. “We’re going for it anyway. We’ll avoid the cities and head for
the Texas coast somewhere south of Houston. That’s been our plan from the
start. After Minneapolis and Omaha we don’t want to drive through another big
metropolitan area.”

Keeping
to back roads and avoiding big cities just kept on sounding like a better and
better strategy. Still, I was curious to see one firsthand. I don’t think my
survival instinct would allow me to take the risk, but it would be interesting,
in a morbid way.

“Don’t
forget the pollution either,” I said.

“Pollution.”
Stan’s brow was furrowed. “How so?”

Briana
also looked at me with interest.

“Think
about it,” I began. “In the United States alone, hundreds of millions are dead
– have to be from what we’ve seen – and most died right at the start. That
means all the factories and things that had been running would not have been
shut down. Just think what that could mean with a chemical plant. All that
toxic goop is going to make its way to the streams and rivers and on to the
ocean. Cities are burning, releasing more garbage, which will also work its way
down. Ships will run aground, maybe some big oil tankers. I think the oceans will
be an environmental nightmare in a year or so, maybe less.”

Briana
and I hadn’t discussed the effects of humanity vanishing so suddenly. The issue
had only recently occurred to me, my attention being on other, more pressing
matters.

“Maybe,”
agreed Stan, tentatively, “but we would still have time, months of safety at
least. I can’t pass that up. If nothing else, it’ll give us a chance to come up
with something better.”

“Good
luck then,” I offered.

“You’re
not going to try to talk me out of it?”

“Hadn’t
he just been doing that?” commented Briana.

“No, I
gave my opinion and my reasons. That’s more than enough. You decide what you
think is best and do it. I won’t be making any attempts at persuasion past
that.”

“What
are you two doing?” He leaned up against the side of my Jeep. I did not
appreciate this but kept silent. It’s good to be polite and somewhat
accommodating, if it wasn’t too much trouble.

“We’re
heading to the Nebraska National Forest, top left of the state,” replied
Briana. “It looks like a good place, maybe. If not, we might move into the
Rockies, find an isolated valley.”

She had
come up with that alternative the day before, and it was definitely a secondary
plan.

“Well,”
said Stan, “I’ll return the favor. Good luck to you as well.”

“We’re
going to go with them Stan,” interjected another man who had been listening.

“What?
Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,
Julie and I were talking about it as he laid out his arguments.” A hand was
extended toward me which I shook. “Simon Branson, my wife Julie.”

“We have
no problem with you tagging along,” I said amiably.

In
reality, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. There are advantages to
numbers, but you also sacrifice flexibility, particularly when it came to
moving quickly or reacting.

“More is
excellent,” agreed Briana happily.

“I think
I’ll come too,” said another woman.

Briana
took one look at her and scowled, although she wiped the expression from her
face within seconds.

The
woman did not miss this, and she grinned slightly. “I’m Cherie,” she said,
taking my hand in both of hers and tossing a nod at Briana.

“Nice to
meet you,” I replied. “If you want to come along that’s fine. Just pull your
cars aside so the others can get by. We’ll let them get past before we head
north. That’ll make it easier on everyone.”

This
wasn’t entirely true, but I needed a few minutes to discuss the change with
Briana. We’d been alone, for the most part, for nearly two weeks. Bringing in
another three would change our routine greatly. It turned out to be another
five actually. Simon and Julie had two kids, Michael and Juliette.

*
* *

“Did you
see how she leered at you?” snapped Briana.

“Not
really.”

This was
true, but then I wasn’t paying attention.

“Well,
you had better start watching. I don’t like her, and I don’t trust her.”

Jealously,
how wonderful. I could see some of it, from Briana’s point of view. Cherie was
older than her, twenty three, and very, very attractive. Now, I favor Briana’s
looks. Her skin isn’t quite as perfect, and her face doesn’t have the same
model like profile, but Briana is still extremely attractive. Plus, she smiles
all the time. She doesn’t have a sneaky nature, and when she’s being pleasant
it’s because she really feels that way.

Cherie
had a slightly lighter complexion than Briana, with brown eyes and dark brown
hair, almost black. She was an inch or two shorter, and bustier, though her
waist wasn’t quite as narrow. I found myself wondering what she looked like
nude, and Briana must have sensed something since she threw up her arms and
plopped herself in the passenger seat. I joined her inside the Jeep shortly
thereafter.

“You’re
the one riding with me Briana. That’s not about to change. That’s not going to
change.” This seemed to work. She smiled at me, reassured, or so I hoped. “I
expect a back rub sometime soon though. You owe me one.”

“Not a
problem,” she replied, something new in her tone. “Maybe tonight even, if we
ever get moving.” She twisted in her seat. “They are driving slow. Rate they’re
going they’ll hit the coast in about three months.”

*
* *

Once
Stan’s group was finally gone, heading for what I believed was certain doom, I
pulled out and led the way up the road. The Bransons followed along in their
SUV with Cherie taking up the rear in a crappy, little Toyota. It looked new,
but still. Briana was quick to point out that Cherie’s choice of vehicle was a
clear indication of her lack of common sense. I thought about countering by
saying her coming with us showed some desire to stay alive, but decided, wisely
I’m sure, not to.

We made
it most of the way past Garden City, moving along the same road the convoy had
taken, when several people ran out into the street ahead of me, out of breath
and barely able to stand. Trailing them were zombies, about two dozen.

“People
everywhere today,” said Briana, surprise overriding the concern at having a
shambling horde so close.

“Zombies
are coming!” shouted Julie, her head out the car window.

I opened
my door. “I see them. Not a problem.”

Julie
looked at me like I was insane.

“You
folk okay?” I asked, approaching the newcomers.

Before
they answered I drew my pistol and moved to intercept the approaching monsters.
I dropped the five nearest and then returned. The others were still far enough
back to ignore for the moment. I also found the shooting was easier and less
disturbing than before. I wonder what that says about me.

“Well?”

“Fine,”
gasped a short, heavyset woman. She was not in the best of shape. Actually, she
reminded me of Laura, although not quite so large. The other two weren’t as
winded, but they were covered in sweat.

“This
really isn’t the best place to be talking,” I said. “Cherie! Drive up here.”

When she
pulled up, I directed the three to get into her car.

“Let’s
get past the town. We can talk once we’re in a safer place.”

Without
waiting for anyone’s opinion, I got back in the Jeep and, once everyone was
settled, led the way several miles north. There was an open area off US-83 that
was easy to get to, even for Cherie’s car, and I parked there. The others drew
up beside me. It wasn’t even lunch time, but I was certain we’d be spending the
night. Turned out I was correct on that count. The thirteenth day started just
south of Garden City and ended several miles north of it. But our team went
from two to ten.

*
* *

“Have
some water,” said Briana, giving each a bottle. They looked like they could use
it. “And tell us what happened to you. We may even return the favor. It could
happen.”

That
earned her a smile from all three. She’s a charmer.

“We were
hiding in town when we heard a bunch of cars. We knew we couldn’t stay where we
were, so we ran out but didn’t get to them before they were past, not even
close.”

“Why
didn’t you drive?” asked Cherie.

“Didn’t
have a working car and didn’t have time to find one. What’s your name by the
way?”

“Cherie.
You?”

A round
of introductions followed. The newcomers were Lizzy, Lois, and Mary. Mary was
Lois’s thirteen year old sister, a cute blonde who smiled as much, if not more
so, as Briana. Lois, in complete contrast, was quiet and somber and said
little, leaving it to Lizzy to give us a quick summary of what they’d been
through.