He shook his head. “I’ll let you know. I haven’t been since I woke.”
“Okay.” She jotted some things in her notebook then tucked it under her arm. “Oh, I asked for the yeoman. He’s going to ask the captain if you can get out for short bouts if you wear gloves and a mask.”
Kevin nodded slightly. “Thanks.” He yawned broadly and lay back. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“I will stay and watch over him.” Broussard pulled the chair closer and propped his feet on the end table. “It will give me a chance to finish my book.”
“What are you reading?”
Broussard shrugged. “Some drivel I found in the cafeteria…er, I mean the mess deck.” He pulled the book from under his arm and held it out to her. “An American zombie story.”
Carol pulled it close and stared at the cover. “White Flag of the Dead by Joseph Talluto?”
Broussard nodded. “I say ‘drivel,’ but it’s actually a good read.”
Carol nodded. “Maybe I’ll check it out when you’re done.”
Broussard glanced at Kevin curling up on the mattress. “If we are still around, you are most welcome to it.”
She handed him the notebook. “Remember…”
“I know. Record everything.” He pulled his glasses from his coat pocket and slipped them on. “I will inform you of any changes.”
Simon practically hung out of the door as they drove slowly through town. “You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a damned diesel rig before the end of the world. But now? Did they all fly south for the winter?”
“Head toward the interstate. There’s truck stops all along there. Surely there’s a couple dozen trucks parked at one.” Sinner pointed toward the highway.
“Roads are thick with dead cars, though.” Shooter complained as he angled around another wreck. “Don’t you reckon it will be tough to get them out?”
Simon shrugged. “We push ‘em.” He turned and smiled at Sinner. “It’s not like those things can’t push a rolling turd like this out of the way.”
Sinner nodded and tapped Shooter on the shoulder. “Up there.”
Shooter turned the car for the onramp then slowed to go around a short line of deserted cars. “Damn, it’s tight.”
“That’s what she said.” Simon laughed at his own joke. He kicked a foot up onto the dashboard. “She didn’t say that when I was done with her though.”
“Simon…there is definitely something wrong with your head, man.”
“Yeah.” He turned and smirked at the big man in the backseat. “Lack of tail!”
Sinner gave him a disgusted look. “Yeah, I heard about what you did with the Rager down the block, man.”
Simon nodded then froze. “Wait…how’d you hear about that?”
Sinner paused and glanced to their driver. “Shooter must have told me.”
Simon looked at Shooter who shrugged. “I don’t remember saying nothing about nothing.”
Sinner groaned inwardly and slowly reached for his blade. “You must have man. How else would I know?”
Simon nodded slowly. “Yeah, Sinner. How else would you have known?” He turned and glared at him over his shoulder. “You don’t suppose maybe Stinky came by and whined to you while you were convalescing, did he?”
Sinner shook his head. “Nah, man. I told you. I hadn’t talked to him.” He slid the knife out further and turned it so that his forearm hid the blade.
“Oh, wait…yeah.” Shooter exclaimed nervously. “I DO remember mentioning it to him.” He turned and gave Simon an unconvincing smile. “Remember when you poured the hooch over your pecker so you wouldn’t catch Crazy crabs…or Rager VD, whatever.” He nodded quickly. “I thought it was funny and I told him all about it.”
Simon shook his head at the man. “Did you now?”
Shooter nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah. It was funny, man.” He reached across the narrow car and ribbed Simon. “Remember how you had her howling and shit? Then you capped her in the head?” He swallowed hard. “I was standing downstairs with Stinky and…and I heard it.”
Sinner sat forward, the blade concealed in his hand. “Actually, if truth be told, he said it made him sick to his stomach.” He leaned closer to Simon and lowered his voice. “I think he said something along the lines of you being a sick, twisted, perverted son of a bitch.”
Shooter’s eyes widened and he slowed the car, his eyes darting between Simon and Sinner, either of them capable of killing him in moments. “N-no, I didn’t, Simon.” He swallowed hard. “I would never say nothing like that about you.”
Simon glared at Shooter then slowly smiled. “Well, he’s right. I am a sick, twisted, pervert.” He punched the little man in the arm. “But don’t knock that Rager pussy ‘til you’ve tried it.”
Shooter felt the bile rise in the back of his throat and he tried to swallow it back down. As Simon leaned back in the seat and stared out the window, he turned and glared at Sinner.
Sinner gave a slight shake of his head, reassuring him. He sat back in the back seat and watched Simon.
He didn’t put the knife away.
Trevor shook with panic as he watched the two men climb aboard the bulldozer and slowly roll forward. They didn’t go far. They turned the dozer into a garage just a few buildings away.
He slowly opened the door of the RV and motioned to Patricia to stay put. “I’ll be back shortly. You stay in here and out of sight.”
She whimpered and reached for him but he waved her away. “The sun is out and I have to fix the tire.” He motioned to her to stay. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Trevor stared toward the garage then turned his attention to the front wheel. He got down on the ground and slid under the front. “Dammit. Dammit, dammit to hell.”
He pulled himself out by the bumper and sat on the curb. “We are so fucked.”
“What’s wrong?” At the voice, Trevor panicked again and reached for the rifle. “Whoa…whoa!” Hank stepped aside, his hands in the air. “I’m sorry
