I chuckled. “When the truck crushed the dumpster inward, the lid must’ve slammed down so hard, it pinched the zombie’s head off.”
A detail no one needed to hear.
What can I say? I like to paint an accurate picture.
Clare and George both flashed me annoyed expressions. Casey likely would have, too, if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with the pretty newcomer.
Jessica glanced at me and nodded again. “Guess so. Anyway, it… the head, was still trying to bite me, so I scrambled away from it, to the side with all the nasty trash. I waited a while, until the awful noises outside faded away… even Mr. Davis’s screams.” She sighed sadly. “Then I tried to stand up and get out, but the lids wouldn’t budge. I could hear the head still moving around, but it was too dark to see anything inside the dumpster. Eventually, it stopped making noises, and I fell asleep. By the time I heard voices outside, I’d forgotten it was in there with me.”
“Jesus, how long were you trapped?” Casey asked.
“I’m not sure. What time is it?”
He glanced at his watch. “About five a.m. November 4th.”
“November 4th?!” She shook her head, disbelief etched upon her young face. “Almost two days then.” She glanced at the empty bottle in her hand. “No wonder I was so thirsty.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Clare lamented, “what a nightmare.”
Jessica shrugged. “Could’ve been worse, I guess. I mean, it was gross and scary. But at least I’m still alive. Unlike Mr. Davis… and everybody else I know.”
“Anyway,” she continued, “when I heard you guys, I didn’t know if I should say anything. I didn’t want to starve to death in there, but then again…” She offered Casey a sheepish grin. “I didn’t know who you were. If you’d hurt me or not. So, I crawled into the corner and tried to stay as quiet as possible.”
“We heard you sneeze,” Casey said.
She bit her lip. “Yeah, I tried to hold it in, but the air wasn’t exactly fresh in there.”
I chuckled again. “It’s not exactly fresh in here either.”
“Better than a dumpster,” she replied. “Anyway… I was afraid y’all might’ve heard me. So, I tried hard not to move, but then that disgusting thing tried to bite my foot.”
In unison, Clare, George, Casey, and I all glanced down at her feet—as if expecting to spy a nasty wound that would prove to be the girl’s death sentence.
From the collective sigh in the van, it seemed we were all delighted to spy her bloodstained-but-intact leather boots.
“He didn’t get me,” she assured us. Just in case anyone still had doubts.
George’s smile faded. “Jessica—”
“Jess,” she insisted. “Everybody calls me Jess.”
George grinned. “OK, Jess… where’s your family?”
Suddenly, another explosion rocked the van. Somehow, I doubted we’d be able to retrace our steps back to MS-28.
“It’s just me and my dad,” Jess replied, ignoring the nearby rumbles.
“Where is he?” Clare asked.
“He’s the captain of a car ferry. Captain Sal.” As if that answered everything.
“Uh, guys,” I said, “I hate to interrupt, but we really should get back on the road.”
No one paid attention to me. Not even Clare. They were all too busy waiting for Jess to continue.
“He ferries vehicles up and down the Mississippi River,” she explained. “That’s where he could be right now. On the Stargazer. That’s the name of his ship. Anyway, Mr. Davis was gonna take me to Natchez, to meet up with him, but…”
“The undead shitstorm hit,” I offered.
She sighed wearily. “Yep.”
“Well, we could take you there,” Casey said, his impulsive hormones volunteering us all for taxicab duty.
Before I could object to the detour, Clare and George vehemently agreed. Naturally, Jess beamed with gratitude, and I didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble.
Besides, while we had yet to spy any zombies or evil humans approaching the van, I realized the longer we sat in the Walgreens parking lot, the more likely that could change. The more likely, too, another explosion would do more than merely knock us around a bit.
So, we needed a plan. I-55 North was blocked. MS-28 likely was, too. Since our ultimate destination in northern Michigan lay northeast of us, I didn’t want to waste time heading south—or, in the case of Natchez, southwest—but perhaps west was the only viable choice from Hazlehurst.
As it happened, Jess preferred that direction as well. Heading west would lead us to the Mississippi, America’s greatest river—where she believed her dad currently steered his enormous ferryboat. After dropping her off, we could simply trace the serpentine waterway toward Memphis and beyond.
“You don’t, by any chance, have a radio I could use to call him?” she asked. “I was supposed to meet him… well, two days ago.”
In less than five minutes, Jess, with Casey acting as her eager assistant, had set up all the shortwave radio gear on the dining table. Tested it, too.
It took a few minutes of repeated efforts for Jess to get through to the Stargazer, but as soon as the radio operator answered the call and promised to alert her dad, the radiant smile on the young woman’s face could’ve rivaled the sun.
“Jess?” Captain Sal asked breathlessly. “Is that you?”
I detected his relief, even over the static. Given the mayhem that had overtaken the country over the past few days, he’d likely believed her to be dead… or dead-adjacent.
Briefly, Jess told her father what had befallen her—and who had ultimately rescued her. He was so delighted to hear her voice—and so grateful to us—that we finally caught our first big break. For our willingness to reunite Sal with his daughter, he offered to ferry us (and our home-on-wheels) up the Mississippi River, onto the Ohio River, and all the way to Louisville, Kentucky, where Jess and Sal planned to connect with some surviving relatives.
Thanks to the appreciative ferryboat captain, we wouldn’t have to traverse the nation’s treacherous highways and byways,
