Sam held a smirk until they were back on the highway. His goal was to avoid US currency the same as Rick, and he’d won. Most people were going to be caught unawares that the paper currency they’d depended on their entire lives would soon be worthless scrap paper. Most people would focus on the immediate zombie threat and not spend enough time thinking about how life would be in the near future. Those people would have great difficulty accepting what the conditions of their lives would soon be. Elimination of currency was just one of the first major changes coming in their upheaval.
“Thank you,” he heard in a muted voice from JR.
“You’re welcome. You need reliable weapons if we’re going to tackle the undead together. Glocks have a reputation for reliability.”
“I understand the handguns, rifles and shotguns, but the hand grenades are pretty extreme. What are they for?”
“There’s not a reason for them I’m aware of, but it can’t hurt to have them along. I mainly anticipated getting rid of another $500 or so of currency.”
“How damned much money do you have if you want to just get rid of it?”
“Enough to get us a good way north of here and into Canada. Hopefully before people wake up and realize it’s worthless paper with no intrinsic value.”
“What do you mean worthless? How can that be?”
“Paper money has no value in itself. It’s backed by the country that issues it. Since our country is being decimated, its currency has no value. There’s nothing to guarantee its worth. There’s gold bullion stored in Fort Knox, but it’s not nearly enough to back all the paper that has been printed against it. And truthfully, I’d not be surprised if some of our crooked elected officials haven’t thought of a way to steal a large amount of that in the last several months.”
A vehicle behind them flashed its headlights as it pulled out to pass on a long straight away. As the blue truck pulling a trailer went by people on the passenger’s side waved.
Sam returned the greeting. “That was Rick’s family. I wish them good luck. They’re good people.”
JR asked, “What is your plan for tonight? It’s ten minutes after ten now. How long are you going to drive tonight?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. Until I’m tired, I suppose.” He changed the subject. “What’s your full name?”
“JR Johns.”
“No. I mean your given names. What does JR stand for?”
“That’s none of your business. Just JR.”
“Oh, come on. They can’t be that bad.”
“Yes, they are. I hate them.”
“That’s just one opinion. I might think they’re neat and like them.”
“I’ll tell you if you swear you’ll never repeat them. Promise?”
“Boy, these must be doozies. Okay, I promise to never repeat them.”
“You better mean it. Josephine, Rhiannon, Johns.”
“No wonder you’re ashamed of it. That’s a mouthful, girl.”
“Okay wiseass. What’s your full name.”
“It’s not as bad as yours, Josephine Rhiannon Johns.”
“Liar! You said you’d never repeat it and you just did. Asshole.” She threw a series of hard punches at his right shoulder.
He flinched as the truck wandered across the center line. “Damn, that hurt. Ease up girl or I’ll throw you out at the next town.”
“You wish.” JR slid across the seat to the door and pouted.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m Samuel Ilesh Boyle.”
“Samuel, what the fuck?”
“Ilesh. It’s Apache and means Lord of Earth.”
“Boy, and I thought my grandmothers hated me when they each got to pick my names. After me, my parents went back to picking their kid’s names like they did before I was born. I was the only unlucky one to get grand mothered.”
“I like Ilesh because it retains my Apache Native American heritage.”
“So you’re part Apache? My ancestors are Comanche and Welsh. Or Scottish. My grandmother on my dad’s side wasn’t exactly sure and told it both ways.”
Staring straight ahead, Sam said, “My mother died of ovarian cancer when I was fourteen. My dad died of lung cancer last year. He was a two pack a day smoker, plus, I think the welding fumes he breathed added to his fast spreading cancer. My great-grandfather Collin Boyle emigrated from Ireland. In his early years, he was a fur trapper further west until he settled down with a Native American wife.”
“Even at that, you’re somewhat lucky. You’ve had time to adjust to their deaths before all this shit happened. You even got to spend time with them knowing their end was coming.” Softly, as she shifted to lay her head against the door glass, she murmured, “Both my parents and my younger sister became zombies earlier today. The soldiers at the base probably put them down. I have no idea what’s happened to my two older sisters. They’re away at college, LSU, and haven’t answered their phones. Plus, I don’t have a clue what’s happened to the rest of my family. No one answered their phones when I called as I ate supper. That’s scary when you’re used to almost instant access to someone. At least to the ones who have their phones turned on.” She grimaced as she fingered the sore area on her left temple.
“Yeah. Sorry. Most of my relatives left this area years ago during the thirties Dust Bowl years. The few who remained here are old; they’re either in nursing homes or barely hanging on. There’s no way they could survive this journey. Our family isn’t close, so their kids and grandkids eventually drifted away from my mom and dad’s side of the family.” Sam concentrated on driving in the dark and couldn’t think of anything to say to ease JR’s loss, or her pain.
JR sat pensively staring straight ahead. In the dim light from the dash she was attractive. Sam’s buried thoughts of Ari rose to
