Tara hypothesized that most of the infected from that area had been drawn toward Fort Knox. That would leave the cities zombie free for the present. “It might even give any survivors a chance to gain a foothold. They could use this time to fortify their homes or hideaways and resupply.”
At first, Dylan found this hard to believe. “How would the zombies even know there were humans at Fort Knox. Do they have supersonic hearing or sense of smell?”
“Of course not,” Tara said, “but imagine this: You’ve got a city full of the undead, and they’re hungry. Food is becoming scarce, and they’re running after anything that moves. Suddenly, a plane flies overhead, heading for Fort Knox, or a couple of survivors drive past looking for sanctuary. The zombies see them and follow. Over time, they’re joined by other infected. Soon, a small crowd turns into a mob, which grows into a horde. Every time they’re about to give up or become distracted, another survivor happens along or even a raiding party from Fort Knox itself.”
Dylan nodded. “I see what you’re saying. It’s like a snowball rolling downhill. It just grows and grows.”
“Exactly, and there lies the problem. There are too many of them and too few of us. If we hope to stand a chance, we need to be able to repel a horde, and it would help if our troops were inoculated against the virus, or we had a foolproof cure,” Tara added.
“I see.” Dylan leaned back, deep in thought. She filed away the information for future reference. What worried her the most was what they’d find at their destination. “Do you really believe Fort Detrick still stands? What if the same happened to them as at Fort Knox?”
“I don’t know, but if there’s any chance at all, I need to take it,” Tara said.
“And if they are still standing, we can warn them,” Saul added. “They should know the dangers.”
“I guess so,” Dylan admitted, though she was still skeptical. Even if the Fort was running, Tara’s plan couldn’t possibly work. How does she plan to come up with a vaccine, mass-produce it, and get it out to all the remaining survivors?
Dylan dismissed the thought and redirected her attention back to the countryside that flashed past her window. She needed to know the route since she planned on going back for Alex and Amy. They needed her more than Tara did. She’s got Saul, an ex-military, special forces, GI Joe on her side.
Besides, if things were as bad as Tara said, they might not be safe where they were. Not that Dylan had a clue where to take them if that was the case. Where could you hide from a horde of zombies? Unless Tara’s plan did work out. Maybe Fort Detrick was still operational and could be saved if warned.
“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” Dylan muttered with growing frustration.
“What’s that?” Tara asked.
“Nothing,” Dylan snapped. “How far is it still?”
“We’re almost at Charleston,” Tara replied. “From there, it’s another three hundred miles give or take. We’ll be there before nightfall.”
“If everything goes to plan,” Dylan said with a grunt. “Which it never does.”
“I’m just trying to be optimistic,” Tara said, a defensive note in her voice.
“Well, stop. There’s nothing to be optimistic about, alright?” Dylan said. She could feel the anger rising in her chest, becoming stronger with each passing second.
“What’s your problem?” Tara asked.
“You’re my problem. I shouldn’t be here. I should be back at the safe house, relaxing with my friends.”
“You volunteered, Dylan.”
“Yeah, I know, and I’m regretting it more with every second that passes.”
“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to do here?” Tara said, twisting around in her seat. “What I’m trying to accomplish?”
“I do understand, and I think you’re an idiot. You’ll never be able to save the world, no matter how much your conscience bothers you,” Dylan said. “You’ll have to find some other way to atone for your sins.”
Tara gasped. “How dare you? Are you saying this is my fault? That I could’ve stopped the apocalypse, and I didn’t? That is so unfair.”
Dylan shrugged. “You said it, not me. You’re the one who feels guilty. The problem is, you’re going to kill all of us in the process.”
Tara gaped at Dylan, her mouth working. “You’re a bitch, you know that?”
“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re a—”
“That’s enough. Both of you. Tara, sit down,” Saul said.
“But she started it,” Tara protested while Dylan shot her a mutinous glare.
“Yes, she started it, but she’s right. You do feel guilty, and you did ask all of us to join you on a suicide mission.”
“Saul!” Tara exclaimed, her expression shocked.
Dylan smirked in the backseat, feeling vindicated until Saul turned on her.
“And you, Dylan. You did volunteer, so stop bitching and suck it up. Are you a whiner or a fighter?” Saul asked with raised eyebrows.
Dylan looked away, a twinge of guilt stirring in her chest. “I’m a fighter.”
“Then act like it.”
“Fine,” she mumbled.
“As for the anger, keep it under control. We cannot afford another episode on this trip,” Saul said.
Dylan looked at him, her curiosity tweaked. “How do you do it?”
“I think of something I love.”
Dylan frowned. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much. Now shut up and pay attention. There’s a roadblock up ahead,” Saul said.
Dylan leaned forward. “Where?”
“Right there,” Saul said, pointing to a knot of cars tangled together in a knot. “We’ve reached the edge of Charleston, and I don’t think this will be quite as easy as either Louisville or the other cities.”
“What do we do?” Tara asked.
“We go around,” Saul said. “But first, we refuel and take a quick break.”
“Good
