overwhelmed everyone who tried to make a stand. Unless you were lucky enough to find a fortress, you were food.
Turning right along the valley highway, we skirted around a couple of abandoned cars and made our way to the next intersection. The dark grey sky was getting more ominous all the time, and I figured we had two hours maximum before the weather broke.
We drove up another street heading east and came to the entrance of the highway facility. The gate was open, but the garages looked like they had been left alone. Several vehicles were parked around the yard, and everything looked relatively calm. Usually that was when the other shoe dropped.
We got out of the truck and spread out. I headed for the office, as I figured that would be were the keys were. As cold as it was, I wasn’t too worried about lingering zombies, but I still held my crowbar as a precaution. Sarah and Tommy went over to the smaller garage to see if there was anything useful.
The office door was locked, but opened quickly with some judicious persuasion with my crowbar. The office was in a little disarray, but I didn’t pay particular attention to it since my own office often looked worse once upon a time. I checked the desk for keys, and finding nothing, went over to the lock box on the wall and checked it. My hopes were dashed when all that fell out were band-aids.
I went over to the smaller desk in the office and checked the drawers. I found nothing of interest except for an unusually large supply of chewing gum. Frustrated, I looked around and saw a door that led to the large garage next to the administrative building. Opening the door, I looked into the gloom of the garage and saw several plow trucks, so that part of the mission was accomplished. But the keys were elusive. Staying in the doorway, I looked around at what I considered logical places for keys. Finding nothing, I went back into the office and looked around again. I noticed something on the wall behind the open door of the office, a rack with keys. That made sense. The secretary and supervisor could see at a glance what trucks were out and what ones were still in the garage.
Grabbing three sets of keys, I went into the garage and started a slow recon of the garage. I stayed near the doors, as I could see better using the light from the windows in the garage. The plow blades loomed large in the waning light, the trucks waiting like dormant beasts. I couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, so I used the tried and true method of throwing something and seeing if anything moved. Picking up a pop can from a work table, I tossed it towards the back wall. The can hitting the floor sounded like a shot, and I listened intently for any sound.
Sure enough, I heard some scraping and sliding on the concrete floor. Something was back there. But I wasn’t going to go hunting in the dark, no matter how cold it was or how slow the Z’s were. I went to the garage door and unlocked it, shoving the door upward with a grunt. God, I missed electricity.
The open door cast a lot more light into the garage, and I bent down to see underneath the trucks. There was something moving in the back, but the truck’s tires kept me from seeing clearly what it was. I circled to the left and saw what was left of a man trying to crawl. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit, and when he raised himself up I could see CARL stitched on the breast pocket. His skin was nearly white, mottled with black streaks. His back around his kidneys had been torn out, and I could see his broken spine through the cloth. That would explain why he was crawling.
After checking to make sure he was alone, I hefted my crowbar and slammed Carl’s head to the ground. His skull cracked like a coconut, and his movement stopped completely. I hooked his collar with the claw end and dragged him outside. A quick look around showed he was alone, so I checked my keys and went over to the truck that had the corresponding number.
I climbed into the cab and looked things over. It didn’t seem too complicated, and I was thankful yet again that my parents insisted that I learn to drive stick shift when I was learning to drive. “Never know when a skill might be handy.” My dad used to say. I hoped he was alright, but I didn’t have much faith in that.
I put the key in the ignition and tried it. The engine coughed and turned over, but didn’t catch. I tried it again and the same thing happened. Hoping the third time was the charm, I tried it again. No go. Okay, one last time and I would try another truck. Once again I was rewarded with nothing.
It wasn’t until I tried the third truck that I actually got one running. It was a newer model, so I imagined it didn’t lose power as fast as the other ones. I got out of the cab to let things warm up and ran into Tommy and Sarah. They were both grinning like fools and I wondered what was going on. They had to have found something pretty neat to be smiling like that.
“What’s up?” I asked, giving the two of them a suspicious look.
Tommy nudged Sarah who smiled and pointed to the pickup. In the bed were two small devices, and it took me a minute to figure out what they were. When I did, I whooped and grabbed up Sarah, swinging her around in a small dance of joy. She laughed and it was a good thing to hear. For good measure, I grabbed Tommy and did the same thing to him. He didn’t laugh.
“Where the hell did you find them?” I asked, walking over to the truck and resting a hand on two of the most beautiful gas powered generators I had ever laid eyes on.
Tommy came up and slapped me on the back. “We found them just sitting on the side of that small garage. There was a bunch of other tools, and another welding torch, but these were the prize. I hear you have a truck running.”
I smiled. “Took me twelve tries, three trucks, and a crippled Carl to find it, but she’s warming up now.”
“Carl?” Sarah asked, arching an eyebrow at me. “Since when do we name these things?”
I laughed. “Ordinarily I don’t. But it’s on his coveralls, so he gets a name.”
Tommy spoke up. “So what’s the plan then? You want me to head back with the truck or the plow?”
I considered it for a moment, then said, “Take the plow back. I want to take the truck for a small side trip.”
Tommy cocked his head sideways like a dog looking at something that doesn’t seem right. “Where you going?” he asked.
I decided to add to his confusion. “Home.” was all I said.
26
Sarah looked at me strangely, but she got into the truck’s cab. I guessed she wanted to see what I was talking about. “I’ll be back at the building in an hour, no later.” I told Tommy as he jumped into the plow. I winced as he clanged the big blade on the ground, trying to figure out the hydraulics controls.
I climbed into the pickup and moved out to the gate. Sarah asked which way we were going and all I said was “Straight.” Which was odd as the road only went left or right.
But it immediately made sense when I pulled into the subdivision across the street. I had driven this road so many times it was easy to forget the how the world was now. The homes I passed were as familiar to me as my own, and even though I saw the wreckage and decaying bodies, I didn’t really see them. In my mind’s eye I was looking at my neighborhood the way it was, the way it was supposed to be. Part of my mind warned me that this was a dangerous trek I was taking, that the truth might be harder to handle than anything I could ever have imagined. But the other part didn’t care. I needed to see my house, I needed to see the place where I had built so many memories.
I turned the corner and went down the side street, my eyes taking in the broken homes and the smashed cars. This neighborhood did not seem to have suffered too much devastation, and I began to get the hope that I would find my house intact and unlooted.
Sarah was quiet the whole time I was driving, and I could see her glance at me from time to time in the corner of my eye. What she had to be thinking was anybody’s guess. But with the events of the last day and losing Chelsea, something was pushing me towards home.
I turned around the bend in the road and I could see my house at the end of the block. From a distance, it looked untouched and I began to harbor the hope that it had been passed by looters and the waves of zombies looking for food.
I pulled up to the house and initially it looked okay. The windows weren’t smashed, and the door was still in place. I looked at Sarah and she smiled, although I could see she was troubled by this visit, for some reason. I got out of the truck and Sarah followed, the both of us instinctively scanning the area and looking for threats. Seeing
