As he squirmed in the seat and mentally relaxed, he thought to JRs statement in the restaurant. He, too, was glad she was with him. She was a good person and he liked her; in fact, he was learning to like her a lot. She was good company and was adjusting to their changing environment as fast and as well as could be expected. But it was painful for her. The episode with Breyna and then having to defend themselves against rogue humans had been high hurdles for her to overcome, but she did it. He was proud of her. A feeling was growing that they wouldn’t be parting soon. There’d be a place for her as long as she wanted to stay with him.
For more than six months, he had followed the zombie apocalypse as it developed. It was six months for him to mentally adjust and prepare for the horrors survival would require him to deal with. Websites in Europe broadcasted the full range of zombie and human behaviors he would need to be ready to handle. What they didn’t explain with great depth and clarity, he reasoned for himself. In that respect he was spared the sudden impact of acts that months before would have seemed unthinkable. But even with that mental preconditioning, his violent responses were affecting him to depths he hadn’t anticipated.
Slowly his thought trailed off until he slept soundly.
During the night, Sam awoke to the sharp cracks of multiple gunshots close by. Sitting upright, he looked all around the area in front of and to both sides of the truck. He saw movement in the driver’s side mirror. Carefully, he exited the cab on the driver's side and looked past the trailer. Three men ran toward a green pickup several hundred feet away. One limped and was helped by the other two. Smokey chased them nipping at their legs. JR called him back repeatedly, but he ignored her in the excitement of the chase. Sam met J.R. behind the trailer where she stood with her Glock in her hand. The trailer’s drive-up gate lay on the concrete and the Yamaha dirt bike lay on its side ten feet away. "Oh, Sam. Thank God. More shit to deal with. . . . Smokey growled and woke me. They were stealing from us, so I shot twice in the air to warn them off. But one of them pointed at me. In the dim light I thought he might have a gun, so I shot at his legs." They were each silent as the thieves sped away with the engine racing and tires squalling. They turned to the open trailer. With flashlights, they inspected the trailer and reloaded the Yamaha. The padlock with a cut shackle laid where it was dropped. A bolt cutter was nearby; Sam tossed it in the trailer. Nothing else appeared to be damaged or missing.
Sam said, "Dammit! Criminals have become a daily occurrence. There’s trouble every time we turn around. I guess we need to drive at night and sleep during the day where people are around. Let's take off before the cops show up to check what we're doing. Someone might have heard the shots and called it in. And the guy you wounded will surely go to a hospital and file a report blaming you for shooting him for no reason. I’ll grab another padlock from my stash, then we’ll leave and drive all night." As an afterthought he added, "Do you think you can sleep in the camper while I drive, or do you want to sit up front?"
J.R. was squatted to rub Smokey's head and neck. "Up front. That thing would rock too much. In fact, it’s two am, so I slept soundly for almost five hours. I feel well rested, so if you're okay with it, I'll drive four hours, then you can take over again. At the first chance tomorrow, I’ll feed Smokey a half pound of raw hamburger as a reward for his ferocious attack."
Sam started for the passenger's door when J.R. said, "We haven't had a shower or changed clothes since we left Oklahoma four days ago. At daybreak let's rent a motel room and clean up." She snickered, "I'm sure I smell as bad as you do, and you're getting rank."
Sam grinned, made as if to sniff his armpit, and made a face. "Whoa, good idea." They laughed as JR shook her head and grinned at his silly sense of humor.
With the center console raised, Smokey slept between JR and Sam with his head resting on JR’s thigh. Willy Nelson sang ‘Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” from the album Red Headed Stranger. The music was turned low, and in half an hour Sam was sleeping soundly with his head resting against the glass.
JR was surprised by how quickly she was becoming attached to Sam. She had never relied on any man except her dad. Jacob Johns worked as a machinist since graduating high school, provided a good living for his family, and was a great, interactive father.
She felt Sam had that same potential; plus, he was sexy and handsome. Tall and stocky but certainly not pudgy. When his shirt was off, his muscular body shone with sweat in the afternoon heat. She smiled. She liked what she’d seen. Liked it a lot.
They’d been through tough times together in the short span of four days. She was sure he liked her; she’d caught him stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Had he seen her glancing at him surreptitiously? She hoped so. He seemed sort of shy and might need to be encouraged. But she’d hold back and see
