With his weapon at the ready, Ranger Bob gestured for me to vacate the SUV. Happy to be liberated from the cramped interior, I did as requested. So did George and Clare, the latter of whom hastened to the other side to assist her mother out of the car.
I gazed at the ranger station, which sat on a low, flattened hill in a cozy clearing and, even in the moonlight, looked fairly new. Roughly the size of a double-wide trailer, the one-story structure featured dark wooden siding that blended well with the surrounding trees. I noticed two large windows on the front of the building, one on each side of the main entrance, and several smaller windows along the side. A couple of dumpsters abutted one end of the station, and a forest-green golf cart sat on the other.
I assumed Ranger Bob and his cohorts had used the open-air vehicle for cruising around the nearby campsites. Which made me wonder… how many folks had been staying in Homochitto when the world turned to shit?
“This wasn’t on any of my maps,” I mused aloud, then half-turned toward the ranger. “When did they build it?”
“It’s brand-new,” he replied, nudging me toward the front door with his pistol. “They haven’t even finished the interior yet.” A fact that obviously perturbed him.
I longed to tell him that the ranger station was as complete as it was ever gonna get, but why waste my breath? He hadn’t believed anything else I’d told him. He surely wouldn’t believe that either.
Chapter
10
“Now I realize there are some things worse than death, and one of them is sitting here, waiting to die.” – Kenneth, Dawn of the Dead (2004)
Ranger Bob hadn’t exaggerated: While the exterior of the new station looked fairly pristine and prepared to welcome hikers, campers, and curious zombies, the interior was still a total mess.
Thanks to several solar-powered lanterns peppered throughout the building, I could see two primary rooms: a spacious area in the front and a glassed-in office at the rear. Though the front room had more depth than the separated office, it wasn’t quite as wide—due to the space occupied by restrooms on one side and a storage closet on the other (all of which I only recognized by the signage posted on them).
Although the construction workers had finished installing all the windows before the world fell apart, little else seemed complete. Only half of the ceiling tiles extended above my head, the rest lying in a stack against an unfinished wall, along with several unopened paint cans, various brushes and tools, a pile of dirty tarps, and numerous pieces of inner wall paneling that had yet to be nailed in place.
Four plastic-wrapped desks, with their drawers still taped shut for transportation, lined another unfinished wall. Numerous unopened boxes covered their surfaces, and a dozen padded, wooden folding chairs leaned against the storage room.
Exposed wires dangled everywhere, and the few light fixtures present contained no bulbs. Not that it mattered with the power grid out. Even if the workers had finished securing all the electrical wiring, Bob would’ve needed an on-site generator and a decent supply of gasoline to keep the lights on. For all I knew, the ranger had already depleted his limited fuel, except for what remained in his SUV.
Beyond the inactive ceiling lights—and the solitary lamp I spotted on the rear desk—I saw no sign of any electrical devices. No radio or television, no refrigerator or air-conditioning units, no phones or computers. Not even a coffee maker in sight.
The only thing in the front room that seemed set up and almost ready to use was an unplugged water cooler that stood beside the door leading to the rear office. Suddenly, I remembered my ever-present thirst.
As if reminding me of our awkward circumstances, Ranger Bob slammed the door behind us.
Sighing, I refocused my attention on our surroundings. Even in my fatigued state, I needed to maintain my situational awareness—particularly if zombies decided to crash our temporary prison. Clare and George, whose eyes also darted around the station, were likely thinking the same thing.
My gaze fell upon the horizontal wall separating the two main rooms, which contained windows on the top half and pinewood paneling along the bottom. The half-opened door opposite the front entrance likewise featured an upper pane of glass.
From my vantage point, I could see a hulking oak desk near the back wall of the station. Various notebooks and folders cluttered the top surface of the desk, along with the darkened lamp, a glowing, solar-powered lantern, and a slender, parqueted pencil holder filled with pens, scissors, and an old-fashioned letter opener. I also spotted an empty, oversized box that must’ve once housed the water cooler.
Clearly, Bob hadn’t lied. His only links to the outside world were his car radio (apparently busted), a walkie-talkie (useless for long distances), and a smartphone (pointless without cell service). No wonder he didn’t understand what was happening in and around his woods.
Still, I was shocked he hadn’t encountered a zombie yet. We’d only been in Homochitto a few hours, and we’d already seen several. George and I had even dispatched two of the nasty fuckers. But, by the ranger’s own admission, he’d been in the forest for at least three days. How the hell had the ravenous undead passed up such a tasty morsel?
While my companions and I lingered near the entrance, Bob stepped around us and strolled toward the rear office, his gun once again nestled inside his holster.
“Come on, folks. We’re gonna sit back here.”
By we, he obviously meant his four prisoners. Without access to a jail cell, he needed to figure out how to secure us before attempting (in vain) to contact his higher-ups and report our supposed acts of terrorism.
Perhaps I should’ve been grateful he hadn’t simply locked us
