Kira sat in the back seat of the crew cab pickup with me. Verlie Halcom rode shotgun across from our driver Sam Williams. The twenty-foot enclosed trailer behind us was close to half full after two stops at Farm and Home stores. We went after rugged work type clothes, not dress outfits or even what had been considered casual dress. Jeans, sturdy shirts and shoes and boots offered enough style for the fragile existence we all led.
We approached a large shopping mall with three large chain department stores listed on the huge sign near the street. Sam spoke, "Look up ahead. Two people are being attacked by a fair sized group of zombies."
A pickup and trailer sat straight ahead on the far side of the street. As we closed the distance, I saw a scissors-type jack had raised the rear end of the Ford pickup. A tire lay flat on the ground off the hub.
A man and woman stood against the street side of the pickup firing rifles at a group of zombies charging toward us. We stopped in the right lane and exited our truck. Another small mob of undead hustled toward us from straight ahead.
I directed our people, "You three start on the new bunch while I join the other people before they're overrun. Watch your backs." I ran across the two center lanes to approach the middle-aged plus couple. The man heard me coming and drew a pistol as he turned. Gunfire from my companions erupted and blotted out other sounds. He raised the large bore revolver and pointed it at my chest. His beard and hair matched his grubby clothing.
I stopped in my tracks. "Whoa! I'm human, and I'm here to help." My rifle was in my hand at my side. I slowly advanced to stand beside the man. "Let's shoot zombies, not each other."
He didn't speak, but quickly turned to work his lever-action carbine to shoot at the undead. I took a deep breath as I wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Surely, he'd heard our diesel engine truck stop behind them. The woman beside him stopped firing to change magazines, and then the three of us continued to mow down the horde until it was a small group. Finally, all the undead lay immobile on the ground.
Gunfire behind us slacked and finally stopped. I spun around completely and didn't see any more zombies running toward us.
I extended my hand. "Tom Jacobs."
The man gave me a harsh glare before his right hand met mine. "John Mitchell and my wife Bea." He broke our hand clasp quickly and turned to his wife. "I'll go look for a tire. Watch yourself."
Before he could walk away, I said, "I have two spare tires, you're welcome to one. It's dangerous to be out alone or to leave your wife here alone. I'll replace it later."
My crew stood beside me. John scowled and spit on the road. "Don't need no help. I'll go find one." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Let's go. If he doesn't want help it's time to leave."
Bea yelled, "Damn it John, take the tire so you don't have to leave me here by myself. I'm scared and want to get on home."
John stopped in his tracks, spun on his heels, and stomped back to Bea. He stopped right up against her and she backed up a step. "You don't yell and curse at me like that, woman. You know your place."
I motioned for our group to step away. "We're leaving now. Do you want the tire or not? It's a Ford wheel so I'm sure it'll fit." John broke his glare at Bea and turned on me. "Yeah, throw it out, and I'll get it in a minute." Angrily, he started inserting bullets into the tube of the carbine.
Sam said, "I can give you a hand putting it on, if you like."
John turned to Sam hatefully. "I don't need no damn help putting a wheel on. I'll take the tire, but if you try to follow me, I'll shoot you dead. Leaving us alone is the safest thing you can do for yourselves."
Kira took my rifle when I handed it toward her. The tire and steel wheel were heavy as I wrestled the spare over the side of the bed and let it drop onto the road's surface. It bounced twice before falling over where I left it lie. "Let's go. We've wasted enough time here."
Sam started the engine and drove a short way before he made a right turn into the mall parking lot. Verlie turned to Kira. "How would you like that ole loon for a mate?"
Kira didn't smile. "I'd shoot that old bastard. No one should have to live with a nutcase like that. He didn't even have enough sense to say thanks after we helped with the zombies or offered the new tire and wheel."
I looked at Kira and in a deep voice said, "I'm a gonna have to teach you your place, old woman."
Sam guffawed and Verlie said, "Good luck with that, Tom Jacobs. You'll need it to tame this one."
Kira slapped my leg, and we all had a good laugh and forced the grouchy, chauvinist pig, John Mitchell, from our thoughts.
For the rest of the day we shopped at two major department stores and took our pick of jeans, and every article of clothing and accessories to go with them. When we left we were in such a good mood we even stopped several times to make long distance head shots on zombies up to half a block away.
