One of the zombies had come from the back of the blockade and chose that moment to step in front of Bill just as he accelerated, suddenly appearing, then disappearing under the truck. A sickening thud was heard, followed by a series of thumps and bumps as the body was dragged part way down the paved road.
Richard hit the bed of the truck hard and rolled into the ice chest. He wasn’t positive, but he was nearly certain he had cracked a couple of ribs when he impacted with the bed of the truck. Being old really sucked. He rolled onto his back and watched as the blue sky rolled by, white whispers of clouds painting it as though it were any other day. The truck rocked and bumped as Bill continued down the road.
Richard felt it best to just lay there and not try to move for the moment. He really didn’t want to try to stand, only to have Bill jerk the wheel to avoid another zombie and him be pitched over the edge of the bed. After far too short a drive, the truck slowed and Bill opened the door. He bent down and ensured that nothing was under the truck, then leaned over the edge of the bed. “Hey, daredevil, want to ride in the front with the civilized folk?”
Richard groaned and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess,” he croaked. “I was starting to feel like a sack of potatoes back here.”
Bill helped Richard out of the bed and into the cab. They drove about another half-mile to the sign indicating the highway ahead and the entrance to the park. Bill continued to watch the gauges and shook his head. “We have a problem.”
Richard sighed. “You mean besides everything else that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. What else could go wrong?”
“I think we’re leaking fuel,” Bill said. “Probably when Mister Ugly went for the dive under the truck.”
“Great.” Richard rubbed a hand through his thinning hair.
“How far up the highway to a garage that could maybe fix it?”
“How much do we have left?”
“Between a quarter and half.”
“What did we start with?”
“Nearly full,” Bill replied.
“We’d never make it.”
Bill slowed the truck and turned to him. “What do we do? I grabbed the lawnmower gas, but that won’t get us very far.”
Richard thought for a moment and shook his head. “The only other idea I have will sound crazier than bat shit.” He stopped and looked at Jason who only smiled.
Bill shrugged. “Hit me with it.”
“We go back to the park.”
“I don’t think I heard you right, because it sounded a lot like you said go back to the place we fought like hell to get out of last night.”
Richard nodded. “Yeah, I know. But do you remember all them cars down there? Well, there are a few boats on that lake, too. And on the other side of that lake is another ranger station and they have trucks, and there’s another road. A road that also leads to a highway.”
Bill chuckled to himself. “That’s nuts, but hell, it’s so crazy, it just might work.” He pulled the truck to the intersection and turned left. “To the park we go. Hell, this is where I was headed in the first damned place. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a zombie apocalypse destroy MY vacation!” He laughed.
“That’s the spirit!” Jason said.
Bill looked at the boy and smiled. “So, did you get a vision of us making it safe to the other side?”
“Nope,” Jason answered as he played with the radio.
Bill frowned at the boy and finally said, “You know, kid, you really need to work on this whole ‘telling people what they want to hear thing.’”
Buck ran through the woods, tears streaming down his face, until he couldn’t run any farther. He collapsed to the ground, the knife that killed his mother clutched in his hands. He didn’t know why he decided to run, but he knew he couldn’t be there any longer. He couldn’t even hug her goodbye from fear he might catch the same disease that stole her from him in the first place. All he could do was sit next to her naked body and cry like a baby. He couldn’t even cover her nakedness up.
It hadn’t bothered him so much until Skeeter touched him. She had only meant to console him, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, it embarrassed him. She had seen him cry. She’d watched him lose it, right there in front of everybody, and he couldn’t stand to be around them any longer. As soon as their attention was somewhere else, he grabbed the knife from the floor and slipped out the back door.
Buck sat there now, under the canopy of the great evergreens, his breath coming in big gulps as he turned his eyes to the sky. Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be his family? Why did it have to be his sister? His mom? Why couldn’t this have just been a movie like he used to watch on late night TV with bad actors and even worse special effects? He fell forward and sobbed again, the image of his mom’s filthy naked body laid out on the cold floor of the Visitor’s Center, blood and puss around her head.
He dug his hands into the soft, dark earth and screamed as loud as he could,
