“Yeah, we already tried that angle with him,” Kent quipped, “didn’t work. So come on, now.”
Baker reluctantly climbed down from the truck, dragging his bag behind him. He turned and glanced at Short, who had been getting his stuff ready to get back to his own truck.
“You watch after him, you hear?” Baker said, as firmly as he could despite his shaky movements.
Short nodded. “I’ll keep him safe,” he said. “Now you go get some rest.”
Baker patted him on the shoulder and then stumbled off towards the blockade.
“You ready to head out?” Bretz asked.
Short nodded and exchanged a fist bump with Hess and Kent.
“We’ll see you boys on the other side,” Kent said, clapping him on the back.
Bretz offered him a thin smile and then headed for the driver’s seat, ready to face the horrors that lay ahead.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bretz and Short drove down the highway one behind the other, driving slowly to avoid any more wrecks. The closer they got to their destination, the more seemed to be littering the road. Abandoned cars were scattered about, and countless zombies roamed the streets.
The creatures were too dense to avoid, but in small enough groups that the trucks were able to just plow through them.
Bretz raised the CB radio to his mouth. “We have about a mile to go until we reach the interstate interchange,” he said. “Once we hit that, we’ll be less than a mile from the bridge.”
“How far up do you want to get?” Short asked.
“With the way today is going, I’ll settle for just making it to the bridge,” the Corporal admitted. “Anything past that is a bonus.”
“Hear that,” Short replied.
They drove a little further before Bretz slowed to a crawl, and then squealed to a stop.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered to himself.
“Everything okay, Corporal?” Short asked through the radio.
Bretz lifted the receiver to his mouth, shaking his head. “Why don’t you pull up beside me and take a look for yourself?”
The second truck pulled up next to him, and then Short came through, “Some days it just ain’t your day.”
The interchange was a colossal clusterfuck. There was a major pileup, with overturned cars and transport trucks. To add to the mess, there were a few thousand zombies roaming about. They sat there, dumbfounded, before getting back to it.
“You got a map over there?” Bretz asked.
“Yes sir,” Short replied.
The Corporal nodded to him through the window as he spread his own map over his lap. “Good,” he said into the radio, “let’s start figuring out how we’re going to pull this off.”
They studied the satellite imagery, tracing fingers over the numerous potential routes. After a few minutes, Bretz finally took a deep breath.
“I got one potential, and I’m not a huge fan,” he admitted.
“Pretty sure we’re on the same page, Corporal,” Short replied dryly.
Bretz sighed. “Okay, that’s the plan, then,” he replied. “We’ll backtrack half a mile to the previous exit, then hope to christ that surface street bridge is clear. We’ll have to fight our way through some residential areas and get to the bridge on the north side. Or do you see something different?”
“Nope,” Short replied with his own exhale. “That’s what I had too.”
The Corporal shook his head. “Looks like there’s a break in the median a few hundred yards up,” he said. “Let’s get turned around.”
“I’m on your six,” Short replied.
Bretz accelerated slowly, carefully making the turn through the emergency crossover in the median. As he came about, there were several zombies in the way which Bretz just rolled over. He cut it a little tight, scraping the back portion of the trailer.
“Guess we need to add some pain to the shopping list,” Short quipped.
Bretz found himself chuckling, glad for the levity. “Nah, scrapes build character,” he replied.
He moved up the interstate a bit as he waited for his companion to take the turn as well. He looked to the side, watching the zombie infested neighborhood, the roads packed thick with them.
Every nook and cranny of this town is jam packed with these things, he thought bitterly. Starting to wonder if we even have enough resources to pull this off.
He continued to stare, just shaking his head in disbelief at the sheer number of them. He snapped out of his reverie as Short blared his horn behind him.
“Okay, follow close,” Bretz said into the radio, “those surface streets look like they’re going to be a nightmare.”
“Lead on,” Short said.
The Corporal hit the gas and they convoyed back towards the previous exit. As they descended the ramp, Bretz saw two cars at the bottom that appeared to have been involved in a crash at some point. It blocked most of the road.
He raised the radio to his mouth. “Lay off a bit, I’m going to have to clear this out,” he said, and then hung up the receiver. He sped up, angling the big rig so that it would hit the back bumper of one of the cars. He smacked into it hard, sending broken glass and metal flying through the air. The jolt threw him around in the cab a bit, shaking him up.
The noise of course attracted some unwanted attention, and zombies began pouring out of the side streets, slowly filling the road ahead of them.
“Shit, that woke them up,” he said into the radio. “We’re going to have to haul ass or we’re going to get trapped.” He hit the gas, truck picking up steam as the road to the bridge filled with more and more ghouls. There was a narrow path in the center of the road, and he aimed for it, silently praying.
As he pushed forward, hands smacked against the front grill as the undead reached for it. Soon the light smacks turned into thuds as bodies shambled out in front, and he punched the accelerator even more.
He glanced into his side mirror, watching as more zombies filled in behind him, getting into the way of
