“That’s okay,” Bill said, standing and picking up the carton. “This is just fine.”
Richard pulled a matching set of stainless-steel travel mugs and filled them, pouring the rest of the pot into the matching thermos. As the pair left, Richard grabbed the cooler and Bill took the mugs toward the door. Jason, who had remained silent the entire time, picked up a small canvas bag and fell into step. Bill noticed the small blue bag and raised a brow.
“What you got there, son?”
Jason never missed a beat as he stepped past Bill. “Ammo.”
Bill watched the young boy as he walked out the back and carried the heavy bag to the truck, following his grandfather. He paused at the rear of the house and watched the two load their burdens into the back of the truck, wondering if either would ever truly be okay again.
Bill slipped in behind the wheel of the truck and started the engine as Jason crawled in and Richard shut the door solidly behind himself. “Which direction should we try?” Bill asked.
“I was thinking about what you asked before. About anybody who might have a plane,” Richard said. “I know a fella who might have access to a helicopter. He used to fly one for crop dusting. But that’s a long shot, and it’s a pretty good trip in the wrong direction.”
Bill nodded. “And the other option?”
Richard shrugged. “Try to run the blockade where all those soldiers were.” The way he said it, Bill knew he was leaving the decision up to him.
Bill looked to Jason who seemed to be staring at the radio. “Any suggestions?”
The boy just shrugged. “Nothing itches.”
Bill’s brows hiked up and he stared at the kid as if he had grown another head. “Nothing…huh?”
“Sometimes he can ‘see’ things. Sometimes he ‘hears’ things. Sometimes he gets…feelings. Like an itch. If nothing itches, that’s his way of saying, he doesn’t know.”
Bill nodded. “Well, the shortest distance is the fastest way out of Crazyland.” He turned to Richard. “My vote is the road block.”
“Then let’s go,” Richard said. “No sense in wasting daylight.”
Bill pulled the truck out of the drive and avoided the Buick as he approached the roadway. He half-expected Jason to yell at him to stop at any second, but the boy continued to stare at the radio. Bill reached out and flipped it on for him and hit one of the presets. A country station twanged out old western songs on an AM frequency and Jason smiled slightly.
Bill checked the road and pulled out, gunning the truck to close the gap between the house and military vehicles parked near the highway. It didn’t take long before they saw their first zombie. Dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, the creature was covered in blood, dirt, and filth. Bill slipped to the oncoming traffic lane and watched as the creature maneuvered to intercept. He was running full speed toward the oncoming truck with no intention of slowing down.
Bill caught sight of Richard’s arm going forward, his hand bracing against the dashboard, preparing for the impact, when he suddenly braked and jerked the wheel to the right, narrowly missing the feral man. Richard’s eyes followed the man as he turned and began to chase the truck, much like a dog might chase a car that dared cross into its neighborhood. “I thought you were going to hit him,” he breathed as he let go of the dashboard.
“I’d really rather not. Hitting a human body with a vehicle can do a lot of damage.” Bill turned and glanced toward Richard. “To the vehicle.”
As he crested the next ridge, he saw two more on the side of the road, but they didn’t have time to track the truck and get in the way before he passed. “I figured they’d hear us coming,” Richard said as the truck blew past them and they turned and began pursuing.
“I figured they would, too.” Bill looked around. “I’m thinking maybe the rocky ridge and the trees are throwing the sound off to them. Or maybe their condition makes it somehow harder for them to zero in on sounds.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”
They continued on and pushed past two more zombies, both in uniform, one still with his rifle strapped to his back. Bill wished he could have found a safe way to run him over and retrieve the weapon, but there was no sense in risking themselves over a stupid gun.
Although he was avoiding hitting people, he was still fighting fatigue. Bill sipped at the hot coffee and shook his head to stay sharp. “I’m a little turned around here, buddy. How much farther to the blockade?”
Richard pointed up ahead. “Should be around this next bend.” Bill slowed the truck slightly and craned his neck to see. Just as Richard prophesied, the military vehicles were parked in the road around the next bend and down the hill. Bill scanned the area looking for any human-sized movement and didn’t spot anything. He studied the vehicles and noted that the blockade was mainly the two Humvees parked across the lanes of traffic. “There’s not enough room on the shoulder to get around them.”
“Ya think we have time to get out and move them?”
Bill shrugged. “We’ll have to make time.”
“I hope they left the keys in them.”
“If not, we toss them into neutral and push them out of the way.” He looked to Richard and smiled. “We can use the truck to push. My back ain’t as young as the rest of me.”
They stopped the truck at the blockade and Bill threw the transmission into PARK. As he stepped out, Jason grabbed his arm. “Watch out for the Army mans,” he whispered. “They bite.”
Vickers sat in the seat of the chopper, the mobile satellite phone case across his lap. “Yes, I know he isn’t
