The Great Wreck (16 page)

           
“What
the fuck was that?” Tony said standing up on the bike and looking around.

           
“Who the
fuck cares!?” Greer said, “Start the fucking truck!”

           
I looked
over my shoulder at Greer and remembered her story about the bum and the little
girl and the way they screamed after they had come back. Most of the dead we’d
seen were too far gone to move quickly, too badly eaten or decayed to pose much
of a threat which was probably the only reason we had made it down the trail.
But now, something fresher, something a little more lively was on the way.

           
Tony put
the bike in neutral and twisted the throttle while I turned the key. The Beast
turned over one, then twice. I let off the key and gave it a few seconds while
looking at the approaching mass of dead. I saw them moving down the trial, some
shuffling, some managing to work up a slow jog, but none of them moving very
quickly. But behind them, I could see something else though. A few heads would
disappear as though being knocked over by something very strong moving very
fast and coming from behind.

           
Nicky
spotted it too, “Try it again,” she whispered as I stared at the wave of
approaching dead. I tried it again. The truck gave three weak chugs then died
again. Somewhere behind us in the parking area, one of the dead had noticed us
and let out a long, “Huunguaaaaaa!” and began leading the other dead towards
us.

           
“Almost
there, Tony,” I said not believing a word of it. I heard that scream again
followed by another, then another. It seemed to animate the dead and they began
running for all they were worth towards us. I saw the first of the screaming
dead break through the front of the crowded trail, spot us, and scream gain.
This one was a teenage girl. Her black hair was filthy matted with dirt,
leaves, and twigs imbedded there from her activities in the forest. She was
wearing a bikini top, a pair of black shorts that I swear, even through all the
fear of approaching death I thought must have been spray painted on, and a pair
of hiking boots. She was completely intact with only a raw looking hole that
must have been a bite mark on her pale white belly. She screamed even louder
and tore down the trail towards us like an Olympic track star.

           
More of
these screaming dead broke through the crowds behind her and tore after us,
“Try it again!” Greer screamed watching an incredibly painful death approach.
Tony stood on the bike, the tendons in his neck and arms standing out as he
gripped the throttle with all his might.

           
I turned
the key again. Chug. Chug. Chug. Pause, chug, chug, chug, having fun yet?
Pause. Chug, chug, chug, and then the engine caught, rattled around for another
second, then purred to life, “Get in Tony!”

           
Tony
leapt off the bike and jerked the cables loos from the truck, then slammed the
hood closed before jumping in the passenger’s seat. He slammed the door shut
just as the girl screamer slammed into the side. She looked inside the truck at
us, reared her head back and slammed it into the window cracking it and
spraying blood across the door as I threw the Beast into reverse and hit the
gas. The Beast sprayed gravel and dirt everywhere as we fishtailed backwards
towards a camper that had ran into a small Smart Car.

           
A smart
car? Who the fuck brings a Smart Car up on Mount Tylor? I thought as the back
end of the Beast smashed into it pushing it out of the way and bowling over the
dead behind us. Everyone was screaming and pointing out unique and interesting
things that might kill us as I continued to race backwards hoping I didn’t hit
one of the bigger trucks and putt an end to our escape such as the big trucks
that out weighted the Beast by a few tones, the dead pouring into the parking
lot from the north, and the split rail fence coming up on us fast. Well, that
last one was important as I ran over the logs holding up the fence that marked
the entrance of the parking area. These logs were big old round fuckers and as
the truck rolled over them I thought we might actually get high centered and
stuck.

           
Tony
must have been thinking the same thing because just as the back tired hit the
ground again, he laughed out crazily, “Spam in a can!” and then we were over
and out on the main forest road. In front of us, as the dead continued to race
around the cars, trucks, and overturned campers, a few of the Sprinters came
over the tops of the cars in a rage.

           
Far to
the back of the crowd of dead, I saw two lone figures standing near their tent;
the old folks. It was clear the dead had gotten them as they swayed gently back
and forth but they didn’t seem interested in joining the others in chasing us
down.

           
I threw
the Beast into gear and speed down the road leaving the dead to chase after our
dust. I watched in the rear view mirror as they continued to chase us even
though there was no way they’d catch up. Crazy fuckers, I thought as I shifted
my eyes from the rear view mirror to the front to watch the road just in time
to hear everyone in the car scream, “Look out!”

           
Another
group of dead had ran out from the forest and made a bee line for the truck. I
swerved and actually felt the left tires come up off of the road. In my mind’s
eye I could see the Beast flip over on its side, flip again, and then again
until all of our forward momentum was stopped maybe by a big tree crushing in
the top of the truck or maybe just by running out of steam as we tumbled along
the dirt road. I saw all of us, broken and pinned inside, the lucky ones dead,
the unlucky, well, about to be dead. I actually could see the dead things
reaching for us through the shattered windows or wiggling their way in until
their mouths were in reach and then…

           
The
truck’s wheels returned to the road and we skidded wildly across the gravel and
dirt road until after a few more terrifying seconds, I regained control. I
pushed the accelerator down as far as it could go as the dead spilled out of
the forest to the left and to the right of us. How the fuck did all these
people get up here? I thought as we blurred by them. At this speed if I hit and
one of them, they’d come up and through the windshield. I swerved to the left
and right in a crazy sort of slalom trying to avoid the racing throngs clipping
one every few seconds and waiting for the first one to come crashing into the
cab. For what seemed like an hour we sped through the masses as they boiled up
and out of the surrounding forest.

           
And then
they were gone. The masses quickly thinned as we made it past the bulk and the
road was clear, “Slow down, Casey,” Nicky said laying a hand on my shoulder, “I
think we’re past them.”

           
I let me
foot off the gas and slowed down to fifty just slow enough to keep the truck
under control and fast enough to keep far, far ahead of the dead. We sped along
Forrest Road 453 passing parking areas to the trail heads. Each scene was the
same; wrecked cars, bodies scattered around, and dead drifting in and out of
the trees. We didn’t hear another of those Sprinters, or attract enough
attention for the dead to come at us in waves, but a few would spot us, take a
few halfhearted steps in our direction, then go back to drifting as we speed
out of reach until we finally got off the dirt road and back onto the pavement
of Route 547.

           
I slowed
down and eased up onto the pavement then stopped. I looked around the road and
back along the way we came. Nothing moved and all was quiet. I eased into the
southbound lane headed towards Grants.

           
The road
was much worse than when we came up, but none of the wrecks we saw going down
had completely blocked the road like the overturned trailer had. I’d slow down
and we’d pass these wrecks careful not to get tangled up in them or accidently
drive off the road and get stuck or, even worse, drive off the road and roll
down into one of the many canyons we drove around. Each of these wrecks told
their own story of terror and death. Sometimes we could see things moving
around inside the filthy, blood smeared windows; someone dead and pinned inside
that came back and was now trapped forever inside their car to slowly rot away.
Other wrecks with the windows shattered out and huge trails of blood and gore
leading off into the woods where the people inside were dragged off to be
devoured. Other wrecks completely burnt out with the outline of corpses still
inside. At the pullouts we’d see a few dead wandering about but these were so
far gone that they didn’t even look up as we passed.

           
We
didn’t stop until we cleared to foothills of Mount Taylor. Not to take a break,
not to stretch our legs, or even to get some fresh air. We just kept rolling
until at noon we had left the mountain of dead behind and only a straight stretch
of clear, open road was between us and Grants.

           
I pulled
into a rest area that was free from cars or anyone else living or dead. We all
sat in the truck with the engine idling waiting to see if anything was going to
spring out of the restrooms or come running and screaming from around the back.
Nothing moved so I killed the truck and pulled a map out of the glove
compartment.

           
Ahead of
us was Grants. There was no way I was taking us through there so I opened up
the map and spread it out across the steering wheel while the others got out
and walked around, carefully checking behind the buildings and structures to
make sure no dead were lurking around.

           
I found
our location on the map then traced a route around the town from Route 66 to
Sakelares boulevard to get around downtown Grants.
Grants would be a complete wreck full of dead, roads blocked by
abandoned and wrecked cars, and who knows what else. As it was, the route I had
planned may be just as bad but they had to get through Grants to I-40 East if
they wanted to make it to Albuquerque before the sun went down. I folded up the
map and set it on the seat next to me and checked the gas. Not good. We had
less than a quarter tank left. Fucking gas hog. Maybe the guy in the Smart Car
wasn’t so stupid. We were less than ten miles from the gas station where the
old man had the gravity pump. We’d try that and hope that he had some fuel
left.

           
I’d take a break and figure it out
when we were ready to get going again. I opened the door and
stepped out
into the blistering hot sun and stretched. It felt like I had been inside that
Beast for days instead of hours. I stank of sweat, grease, and fear from the
trip. I stripped off my shirt and leaned against the truck letting the sun bake
my skin. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up towards the sun feeling the
clean heat on my skin. Around me I could hear the others moving around and, one
by one, get back into the truck. I opened my eyes and pulled my shirt back on,
the climbed back into the driver’s seat.

           
“Ready?”
I asked as I closed the door and started the Beast back up. I could see heads
nod around me as the old girl coughed once then roared to life. We backed out
of the parking lot onto the highway and headed south to Grants.

           
Even
before we reached Sakelares boulevard, we could see that Grants was a
graveyard, a burnt out, death filled, wreck where the dead were everywhere;
packed into the streets, spilling out of buildings, clogging the highway.
 
Grants was a chokepoint and anyone coming
through it would have to go around, just like we were or face a sea of dead

           
I
watched the signs looking for the turnoff hoping the road we were looking for
wasn’t so close to the town center that it would be jammed full of wrecked cars
and walking dead. A few miles ahead of us we could see the streets were full of
distant figures shuffling back and forth across the roads, in and out of
buildings and cars, waiting for people like us to come by and start the party
up again. Beyond them, we could see the highway overflowing with trucks and
dead forming a perfect dam of metal, glass, and bodies that would prevent
anyone from going east or west on I-40. Either the side road would be open, or
we’d be doing some off roading activities here shortly.

           
“There!”
Greer called out and pointed over my shoulder to the left, “Turn there!”

           
I slowed
the truck down and made the turn onto Sakelares and headed south. The road
wasn’t nearly as bad as the center of town or the highway beyond but it was bad
enough. I slowed down and carefully swerved around and in between the wrecks
where the spaces were so narrow that I’d occasionally take off a side mirror or
two while praying that somewhere up ahead there wasn’t a wreck that would
completely block the road since turning around would be almost impossible.
 

           
I sped
up to thirty and followed the road until we hit old Route 66. To our right I
could see the buildings of the town thinning out and the highway getting closer
to us. We passed a huge wreck where a tanker truck had tipped over effectively blocking
both of the main lanes but left just enough room in the breakdown lane for us
to eek by. And then the road was clear. We followed the almost completely empty
road until were past the edges of town and out into the dessert. We didn’t
encounter any more wrecks, soon hit the frontage road, and then were back up
onto the highway.