raised his eyebrows in a question that I answered with a flat “No.”
He chuckled and continued driving. When we reached the intersection of Route 30 with Interstate 65, we had to find an alternate route. The intersection was jammed with cars and there was no getting around them. On the overpass I could see a long line of dead cars and hundreds of zombies roaming the freeway, too stupid to find an off-ramp.
We swung south on 53, but that took us past a huge hospital campus, which looked like it had been bombed. Every window had been broken out and there was evidence of fire damage from a dozen windows. We could see dark forms shifting from window to window and there were dozens out on the lawn. When they saw us they started moving in our direction and some actually fell out of higher windows, just to land broken on the ground below.
We swung down a side road while I scrambled to find another route on the map. I directed Nate down through a blighted subdivision, then back to the interstate. We took a turn back north on Colorado Street and found our way back to Route 30. That little side trip cost us about an hour and a half and it was getting darker. We were going to need to find a safe place to stop for the night. We drove for a little ways and I motioned Nate to pull into a place on the right. It was Deep River Water Park and I figured it would be as safe as anywhere and not likely to be a place that saw a lot of people seeking shelter.
Nate pulled the big vehicle up to the visitor center, but I pointed at a spot closer to where they seemed to have been doing some construction before the Upheaval.
“Why there?” he wanted to know as he moved the RV around.
“We can probably find some gas for the rig in the tractors and trucks over there,” I said, moving by the door and my gear.
“Good one,” Nate said, working to get the RV as close as possible. “Where are you headed?”
“Tommy and I are going to check the area out, you can look for gas with Duncan.” I beckoned Tommy out of his chair. Duncan was already buckling on his weapons.
Tommy and I moved quickly away from the RV and to the first building, which looked to be a concession/restaurant kind of place. We had to break a small window on the door to get in, which was a good sign that the place hadn’t been open when the world ended.
We went inside and searched around, but didn’t find any zombies. We found a good supply of canned goods and a few boxes of something that might have been hot dogs at one point, but neither of us was brave enough to guess. I found some candy bars that hadn’t expired yet and Tommy and I both enjoyed a Three Musketeers each.
With his mouth full, Tommy remarked, “You know, before I had a real sweet tooth, but now it’s been so long since I’ve had chocolate, this seems almost too sweet to eat.”
I nodded. “Me too, but I notice neither one of us stopped from eating the whole thing.”
Tommy smiled a chocolatey grin at me then turned serious. I put the box of candy down and brought up my carbine. I had heard it, too. Something was moving in the back room and it sounded like it was headed our way.
I moved to the door of the restaurant seating area and peeked in. I couldn’t see much because of the lack of light, so I waved Tommy over and he held open the door while I looked around with my flashlight. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
But then I saw movement. One of the chairs shifted slightly. Then another, closer this time. Then another, even closer. It was as if there was a ghost slowly making its way across the room.
For a wild second I thought about invisible zombies, but then laughed at myself for being so stupid. But something was making those chairs move and it was headed our way. I could see a large black opening which might have been the kitchen and there seemed to be some sort of light in there, but I wasn’t about to go charging in until I knew what was coming at me.
Tommy looked at me and I waved him over. I pointed the flashlight at the chairs and sure enough, one of them shifted very close to us. Tommy jumped and brought up his rifle, flicking on the weapon light and aiming it at the ground. I could understand his reasoning. If it wasn’t above, it was below.
Looking down, a pair of red eyes flashed out of the dark at us and Tommy nearly fired when I said, “Hold it.” I bent down and held out my hand and a skinny little black cat scampered out of the darkness and started rubbing its head on my hand, purring loudly in the silence.
“Hey, little buddy. Where the hell did you come from?” I stroked the little cat’s back, feeling its ribs and thin frame. I had no idea how it got in here or how it managed to survive, but it had to have come from a home recently, since it didn’t seem feral. If it had been, it would have bolted when we opened the door.
Tommy relaxed and moved to the kitchen doorway, scanning the area with his rifle before going in. He came back out holding his hand by his nose and coughing.
“There’s a door open in the back, which explains how this little guy got in. There’s a ton of dead meat in there, so the smell is horrible.” Tommy coughed. “But there’s some stuff that we might be able to salvage, although it all seems to be in huge cans.”
“We’ll see what we can take. We can always trade it if we need to.” I went back through the door and went over to the pool access area. We stepped out and looked around, taking in the multitude of water slides, wave pools, wading pools and a big lazy river. The water had turned green with algae and smelled rather badly, but it would have been fun in its day.
We also saw the seven zombies that had come around the building and had managed to cut off our escape back to the RV. I imagine they had come from the subdivision across the way, since there were no other homes around here. They had apparently come through the public access gate and upon seeing us standing there sightseeing like fools, decided an evening snack was in order.
This put us in a bind, since we didn’t want to fire any shots this close to night. The sound would attract every single ghoul from the surrounding area and I had every reason to believe there would be plenty. So we had to take these guys out ourselves and do it without firing a shot. Damn.
I looked around and spotted a possible solution. Retreating quickly, I bumped Tommy on the arm to get his attention to follow me. Tommy was taking a few practice swings with his favorite melee weapon, a length of duct- tape wrapped iron pipe, with fittings attached to the end that made it look like a medieval mace. It crushed skulls without bursting them open, so the wounds were cleaner, but just as devastating.
I moved over to the small bridge that crossed the lazy river. It was about ten feet wide, not ideal, but it would have to do in keeping us from getting surrounded. There was a fence that blocked off access to the river, which helped a little. Tommy followed quickly and as I turned to make a stand, I noticed our little furry friend had beat a hasty retreat to some concealing shrubbery. I slung my carbine across my back and took out my pickaxe. It still smelled of kerosene.
The first of the zombies came lurching at us, stumbling slightly as it encountered the rise in the walkway. It was a man about my age, with a bald head that had tears all along the back. His head was down, but I could see him looking at us from beneath heavy eyebrows. As he took another step, Tommy moved in and swung at it’s head, knocking it to the side and over the fence. The zombie hit the brackish water and disappeared beneath the surface.
“Nice one. You been working out?” I asked as I readied for the next one.
“Yeah, a little,” Tommy replied. “I figured you and Charlie shouldn’t have all the fun.”
I took an overhand swing at the next one, burying the point of my pick into the top of a smallish woman’s head, arching her eyebrows and killing her with a surprised look on her dead face. I shook out my weapon then grabbed her by the arm and leg, heaving her at the mass of undead charging us. The woman’s body collided with three of the others, causing them to stumble and fall. The remaining two walked around and came at Tommy at once, causing a tactical dilemma. I swung at the same time he did and we managed to slam the zombie’s heads together like a couple of overripe coconuts. They went down in a heap and we stooped quickly to move them into the path of the remaining three who had gotten up from the one I had tossed earlier.
The first one, a middle aged guy who was missing a lot of flesh from around his eyes, came stumbling along and actually managed to get a hand on my shirt. I shoved the pickaxe into his mouth and heaved him into the fence, flipping him over and into the water. Thankfully he let go as he fell. The next one was on top of me before I could get a good swing in and I had to block his attack with the handle of my pick. He snapped and snarled at me, grabbing at my arms and trying to pull me in for a chew. I twisted, lifting him off his feet and slammed him into the fence. I could hear his vertebrae snap on impact and he fell to the ground on useless legs.
