He reported the same zombie situation at major Northeast Coast cities as at the southern coastal cities. The undead were spreading as their numbers increased and coming to the Midwest from three directions.

“Hopefully we’ll be in Canada before the zombies converge on where we’ll cross over,” JR said.

“If nothing happens in the next twenty-four hours, we should be across the border and heading into wilderness.” JR edged to the shoulder as a large motorhome flew around the truck. It swayed from side to side in the strong gusty wind with its speed at least twenty or more MPH above theirs. A woman in the passenger seat made an angry face and gave her the finger. Then the driver swerved obnoxiously over into JR’s lane much closer than was necessary simply to express his anger. When the driver steered sharply to the left to straighten in the right lane, a strong gust of wind hit the vehicle broadside. JR hit the brakes as brake lights flashed on the motorhome and the left wheels raised off the pavement. The motorhome flopped down and swerved from side to side in and out of its lane before the driver got it under control.

Sam was incensed at their nearly being involved in a wreck because of someone acting like an ignorant redneck. “Another adult acting childish. They work themselves into a bad mood and then respond more harshly than situations deserve.”

JR snickered. “Guess they weren’t impressed with the number of wrecked vehicles along the road that were likely driving like he is. I don’t wish them bad luck, but I’ll not be surprised if we see them wrecked beside the road before this day is over.”

Just before noon, they passed the scattered debris that remained of the blue and tan motorhome that passed them three hours earlier and almost tipped over. There were no signs of survivors loitering around the long trail of scattered wreckage where the RV tumbled and disentegrated.

Near the south city limit of Herreid, South Dakota, JR exited the highway to a fuel station with high prices but a short waiting line. It was a small, local operation without a convenience store attached. When they were committed on the approach lane, they saw a State Highway Patrol car fifty feet from the pumps. The driver's door stood open and a bloodied trooper sprawled unmoving on the ground in  a pool of blood. An armed group of four males and two females controlled the pumps robbing travelers at gun point. All six thieves brandished handguns. Two pickups were parked on the left away from the pumps.

J.R. attempted to reverse back to the highway and bypass the fuel stop. Sam watched as one of the fuel customers resisted the thieves and was shot in front of several other customers. The man fell to the concrete and a woman and two young children knelt beside him. His arm moved, so Sam knew he was still alive.

The thieves saw JR attempting to back up to flee. Four of the young people rushed toward their truck from almost a hundred yards away. Under pressure, JR cursed as the trailer backed off the approach lane and started to jackknife. Another pickup pulling a trailer stopped behind them blocking them from leaving. Sam said, "Stop and get ready to fight. They've already killed a state trooper and shot another man, so they're desperate. I'm not letting them take anything we have. They’re murders; shoot to kill, not to wound." Like Sam, J.R. had never killed another human being, only wild game and a few zombies. She was momentarily shocked at the idea Sam had planted but she hadn't yet fully accepted. Sure, she’d talked with Sam about people going rogue and needing to be dealt with; but now she was faced with a confrontation that was real and imminent. Faced with four threatening humans waving guns at them, she apprehensively prepared to follow Sam’s lead. It was another unwanted ordeal she was quickly being forced to come to grips with.

J.R. slammed the emergency brake pedal, threw the gear selector to park, and carefully pulled the gun from her thigh holster. Her features expressed doubt and fear mingled with determination. They opened the truck doors, aimed, and fired. Their targets stood in the middle of the roadway in the open forty feet away. Sam hit his first target in the chest twice, and the man instantly fell hard. Smokey tried to get out, but Sam pushed him to the floor and yelled, “Stay!”

J.R.s first three shots puts a man down with wounds. He wallowed on the ground and tried to crawl away. The other two attackers broke and ran back toward the pump area. “Keep firing. Don’t let them get away, or we’ll have to deal with them later.” Sam shot a running woman in the back twice as she tried to escape. J.R. and Sam emptied their magazines and watched the fourth person collapse to the pavement about seventy-five feet away. He said, "Reload. We’re not done yet. There are at least two more to deal with." He looked to the pump area for the last two attackers. Both wannabe bandits were on the ground surrounded by their victims kicking and stomping them unmercifully. The crowd backed away and a man with a handgun shot both thieves where they laid.

Sam spoke loudly to J.R., "I'll walk ahead and drag those bodies out of the roadway. Bring the truck and get in line for fuel." JR was surprised but impressed at his cool demeanor. She exhaled deeply and gathered her poise. She pushed aside feeling of remorse and pity for the people who would have shot them if given the chance. She remembered the song, “Welcome to My World.” Some world, she thought. But that was the new world order she was being forced to accept. Her hands shook until she gripped the steering wheel firmly. Smokey paced the

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