Ellie looked at her map; the river ran the length of where they were and every direction that they could go. The only options they had were to backtrack and go through Des Moines, not something anyone liked the idea of, or they could move the cars so they could continue heading in the direction that Ellie had thought was a good plan. She was very quickly realizing just how bad of an idea this all was turning out to be. She saw something in her periphery as she was trying to make the best least chance of dying decision to take them on. Ellie knew it was all a guess; every time they left it was a guess. Ellie had always been thankful that, so far, as long as she had gone out most of her guesses had gone somewhat okay.
Ellie was going to say I think that we need a second try to get across the bridge but that idea quickly faded away into obscurity. Everyone watched as the Turned made their way across the bridge coming out of the woods, dropping down from trees, and those who’d taken serious damage on the first day, she could assume, were hobbling, some missing arms, others legs, feet, ankles. You name it, there was probably a piece of them missing. No one tried counting, because it really made little difference. With all the firepower in the world, they wouldn’t have enough to take out the horde before they made it to the Humvee if they didn’t get moving. Joe ripped the map out of her hands looking at it and realizing backtracking was the only way they were going to get where they wanted to go.
Joe yelled, “Hold on, I'm turning this bitch around!”
Chapter 10
Everyone closed their eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Shaun pointed the hose directly at the closest Turned and held down the discharge lever. The truck filled with a cloud of carbon monoxide powder mixed with the agent which would be, what he hoped, the end of the Turned, or at least the ones currently threatening their survival. The group held their breath for as long as they could before they finally couldn’t take it any longer. Earl, being the ex-heavy smoker of the group, was the first to go and had to inhale. He immediately began coughing and covered his mouth with his shirt, trying to do something to try and keep the chemical reaction happening around him from entering his lungs.
The group sat in a white blindness, no one daring to move. The pounding that was going on didn’t take long before, to everyone’s surprise, it stopped. Shaun had never been so happy to hear nothing in all of his life. One by one, they all needed that thing called air to continue. The cloud finally settled, leaving all of them covered in a white mist, looking like a group of ghosts. Clary and Earl looked the worst, with it stuck in their beards. Shaun opened his eyes, freaking when he saw a hand wrapped around his ankle. He tried to pull back his leg but it had a death grip on it. He had a flashback that he did not need in his life of his dad...which seemed like just yesterday.
Shaun absolutely did not want to freak the fuck out. He felt very much like he deserved to because of the current circumstances and the only thing that he could think of was having to point a pistol at his own father's head and pulling the trigger, forever changing what and who he would be going forward.
Shaun was screaming and kicking as hard as he could, trying to get the hand that seemed to be a part of him now off of his ankle. He was using his free foot going after the wrist like no other. He could feel his chest tightening until he thought his heart would pound so hard that it might just explode from his chest.
Clary wiped the residue from his good eye, blinking and trying to let the tears do what they needed to. Clary asked, “Shaun, did it bite you, did it bite you, goddamn it?”
Shaun tried to speak but when he opened his mouth only screams came out. The usual calm and collected Shaun that he knew did not seem to be with him in the truck right now. Greg scrambled forward, not waiting for his response and pried off the fingers one by one breaking the brittle bones with each finger and it did little to hurt his heart. Greg was still trying to get his eyesight back, and as things became clearer, he noticed that he had nothing on his leg with the exception of a matching handprint from what he had just removed.
Greg explained, “Shaun, you're okay, buddy. Just take it easy and relax. It didn't get you; you're not going to be one of the Turned.”
Shaun wiped furiously at his eyes, getting his vision back just a bit quicker than the others, since he had already begun to make tears. Shaun inspected his leg and checked Greg to make sure that he was not pointing a gun at his face. They had had to put people out of their misery before, and unfortunately it didn't matter how much someone cared for another, it was still something you were required and expected to do if it came down to it, because if you didn’t, you would become their next target.
Greg already knew what Shaun was looking at and said, “There's no gun pointing in your direction.”
The group was so focused on getting their vision back that they miraculously had forgotten that less than a few seconds
