The backpack and two large cloth bags with handles bulged as she lugged them through the door, then tossed them onto the Malibu’s passenger’s seat and footwell. She started back to lock the door but thought, what the hell; it’s shut, and she’d likely never return. The engine cranked and cranked before it finally started. She said a silent thank you God. As she backed from the driveway, she glanced between the brick fronted, two-story buildings and noticed soldiers and equipment stationed along the fence in the distance at the Army base behind the apartment complex. It was apparent why they were there. Surely the army could stop the zombies from spreading. Maybe she was wrong; surely in a day or two the crisis would be over, and she could return home then.
Traffic was still sparse and neighborhood people either stood in yards in a muddle or hurriedly stuffed their cars as she had. She stopped and rolled down the glass. “It’s real, they’re only a block or two from here. Hurry and leave.” Some people stared at her with slack jawed expressions while others showed fear and hurried faster.
In the distance, she heard a myriad of sirens as lights flashed on police and emergency response vehicles. Her car flew up the Interstate’s north access before she pumped the brakes hard and they squealed to a stop.
Traffic on Interstate 44 North was heavy and both north lanes slowed to sporadic stop and go spurts as she forced her way between cars. The car she cut off honked loud and incessantly. She ignored the arrogant driver; she wanted to live too. As she approached the main entrance to Fort Sill, the stoplights continually flashed red and southbound vehicles were being diverted to the northbound lanes. Traffic was backed up as far as she could see. The military police looked grim and businesslike. Their battle uniforms were drenched in sweat and combat rifles were slung in the carry position. There were no smiles or flirty comments from the soldiers, which was totally unusual.
Each highway entrance had a string of vehicles entering the interstate and her progress slowed even more. At the Route 62 North exit, she impatiently forced her way to the right exit lane to leave the interstate and head north on the two-lane secondary highway. Another car followed her. Traffic flowed there, but it was more dense than usual. North of the Army Base, she approached a string of sleazy bars. Several young women, obviously hookers by the way they dressed, stood beside the road thumbing rides. Most had suitcases at their feet. Holding her speed steady, she considered stopping to give them a lift. A lift to where? A car ahead of her driven by an older man pulled over to pick them up. She told herself to slowdown, be patient, and don’t do anything stupid out of fear and the deep-seated feeling of impending doom. Her sensible side said, this can’t be real; it’s got to be a horrible nightmare she’d soon wake from.
JR’s thoughts were convoluted. She wanted to go back to her dad, mom, and younger sister for one last hug. This weird crap couldn’t be happening. Zombies were impossible; they’re just some silliness created by Hollywood. But she’d seen them up close and in her face; a bloody palm print remained on the glass only inches from her head, and their victim’s screams still haunted her. She followed the car in front of her like a robot without the power to think. A flash of fear consumed her, where was she going? She had nowhere to go. What would she do? Was anyplace safe? All she knew for certain was the undead were in Lawton, and she was driving away from there, running to escape. Escape! Escape to where and what? Brake lights flashed. The car in front of her suddenly slammed on its brakes and stopped. She looked through flowing tears and was late stomping on the brakes. The tires squalled to a stop inches from the bumper of a big, new Lexus sedan. A damned dog emerged to the side of the roadway in a cowering gait after almost causing a fender bender. She cursed the cur as she wiped tears from both eyes and pounded the steering wheel in frustration. She cranked the radio volume louder. A news broadcast told her a disturbance in Lawton was being dealt with and was under control. She couldn’t believe the bullshit report; nothing was under control. The situation was dire and getting shittier. A few miles later, the traffic thinned as other cars left the highway. The temperature in the car was sweltering, so she lowered both front windows a few inches.
Nightfall was imminent when she entered Carnegie and stopped for gas and food. As she ate a brisket sandwich at the Wildcat Bar-B-Que and Deli, a TV special bulletin repeated a large disturbance was occurring at Lawton, but the local authorities and Army personnel from Fort Sill had the situation under control. She thought it strange no video or live shots of the disturbance was shown. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She knew the reports were crocks of bullshit. Her only hope was to get as far away as possible as fast as possible. A frightening though again froze her. Get away to where? Where would be safe? Were zombies all over the country? Or were they like a huge tidal wave pushing from one end of the country to the other? Where was she in relation to what was happening? Why the hell weren’t the TV announcers telling the truth about what was happening? No one was mentioning that zombies were real and killing people; they had killed her family. She saw them up close.
Her cash
