Determined To Live (2 page)

Jake looks back at
me, begging
with his own eyes not to ask. He tells me to stay in the truck and
gets out, gun in hand - eyes always aware and searching for danger.

I
hold my breath as he slowly -
so
damn slowly
- makes his way to the undead and its victim. I watch as he raises
his gun and pulls the trigger. The zombie falls over, slamming
sideways to the asphalt, and then I see Jake kneel down by the
victim's body. I can't stand it anymore so I struggle out of the
truck and move as fast as I can until I'm standing behind Jake.

I try not to look
at the torn and bloodied body after I verify that it's a woman and
not Will. I notice a four inch high-heeled shoe lying close by with
its matching mate still on her right foot.

Was it the
high-heels that had slowed her down and got her ass killed? It damn
sure couldn't have helped her any. Shit, I wouldn't have been able to
walk
in those things, let alone try to run!

So my advice to
all you women - and...uh...men too, I suppose - if you are in this
situation, take the damn things off and run like hell! Yes, you will
probably tear up your feet. Yes, you will probably freeze or burn the
hell out of them, depending on the season. But come on, people! If
you want a chance to live, don't wear shit like that. But if you
wanna look sexy when you die, then by all means, go right ahead.
Rotting zombie legs look so hot and sexy in four-inch heels...idiots!

I feel sick and
upset about the woman's death; but I won't lie, I'm
very
happy and relieved that it isn't Will lying on the ground - mangled
and torn. I sigh and look away from the gruesome sight - and thank
God I did - because what I see coming from Nebraska turns my blood to
ice.

Thousands
of them!
All
I can see are moving dead bodies for as
far
as I can see. And the closest ones are only about two city blocks
away!

"Holy
shit-balls, Jake! We gotta go.
Now!
"
I grab hold of the back of his fatigue top and pull hard enough to
knock him on his ass. I'm panicking, big time! "Jake, come on!
Come on!
Oh my God!
Come
on
!"

He scrambles to his
feet but I'm already way ahead of him, moving faster than I ever
thought I could on these damn crutches. I hear "Oh, God!"
from behind me, and then the pounding of boots on the highway
catching up to me quick. He comes up beside me and grabs my arm.

I scream at him to,
"Let me the hell go!" because he's screwing up the rhythm
and limiting the motion I need in order to make the damn crutches
move with me. He lets go and runs ahead to the truck where he throws
my door open and stands facing me, waving his arms in a "Come
on, come on" motion, screaming at me to "Hurry, hurry!"

What the hell
does this frikken moron think I'm trying to do!

I can hear them.
The undead. The zombies. The man-made freakin'
freaks
!
Good Lord, they sound so
close
.

Don't look back.
Don't you dare look back, Canada!

I
actually listen to the voice in my head for once and I don't look
back. I finally make it to the truck, throw my crutches over the
seat, and jump inside...
then
I look.

Oh, damn!

I grab hold of
Jake's shirt again and pull him inside on top of me. He slams the
door just as the undead reach us.

"Jake―
Jake― Jake―" I can't stop but I can't finish what I
want to say.

Freaking the
hell out here!

"Canada,
stop!" Jake gives me a hard shake and I focus on him. His face
is right in front of mine, so it's a little hard not to.

"How in the
hell did they get here so fast?"

"We've seen
this before, back when you were all at that store in St. Thomas,
remember?"

I remember, and
it freaked me out then too.

I look further up
the highway and see thousands of the original undead making their way
toward us, but mixed in with them are even more of the fast ones. The
ones already here are beating the hell out of the truck, making the
windows shake. I'm really getting worried that they might just manage
to break through the thick-ass glass.

"Jake,
I'm
not
dying today. So get the hell off of me, start the damn truck, and
let's get the hell out of here before the rest of them get here and
we
can't
."

Jake
nods and we play an
impromptu
game of Twister as he gets behind the wheel. I watch the things
outside which are even scarier than the original versions.
I
had no idea it was possible to get any scarier than they were before,
but here's the proof! Right...
here
!
Dead people should not be so fast. Hell! Dead people should not be
moving at
all
!

I notice the truck
still hasn't started and I whip my head around to find out just what
the hell Jake thinks he's doing. He's just sitting, both hands
turning a shockingly bright color of white where they grip the
steering wheel. His face is just as white as his hands - if not more
so - and his eyes are flooded with terror as they stare out the front
window.

Confusion
mixed with rising fear is evident in my voice when I ask, "
Jake
?
Jake, what's wrong? What the hell's the matter? You're scaring the
hell out of me!"

He doesn't say a
word for several seconds - seconds that, in this situation, feels
like a lifetime. Then slowly he turns his head to me, his expression
one of complete and total horror. He shakes his head from side to
side a few times, then finally opens his mouth - and the most
terrifying words come out of the damn thing, "I lost the keys."

He did what!

I stare at him,
speechless from shock - and hoping like hell he's just trying to be a
frikken comedian at the
worst
possible time.

But he's
so
not!

And we are
so
screwed.

"Jake!
Are you
kidding
me? Oh my God!
Where?
Where are they? Out
there
?
Seriously?"

What do we do?
What do we do? What do we
do
!

Stop! Stop it,
you idiot.

Think. Think,
damn you!

I look around and
let my mind and eyes do their job. When my eyes land on the steering
column I hesitate, but then my brain starts doing a touchdown dance.

Jake screeches when
I grab and tug at him, then climb over him. He starts to question me
but I scream at him to move. I ask him if there's a screwdriver or a
battery-powered drill in this damn truck; I expect a screwdriver, but
when he pulls out a case with tools from under the front seat, opens
it, and hands me a power drill, I'm happier than a man on Viagra.

This is going to
be a hell of a lot easier than I'd hoped!

I snatch it out of
his hands and get to work drilling the key hole. Finished, I demand a
flathead screwdriver or a knife and he hands me a screwdriver. I
stick it in the keyhole and twist. I give Jake a satisfied and
relieved grin when the truck fires right up.

I notice the
shocked look on his face and answer his question before he can ask
it.

"I
wasn't friends with the "
in
"
crowd
in
high school. Let's just leave it at that."

I throw the truck
in reverse and stomp down on the gas, moving as far back as I have to
in order to be able to make a u-turn and get the hell out of there.

We
leave the undead eating our dust and as we near the exit to my
sister's, my mind settles down enough to remember what we're supposed
to be doing out here in the first place -
Will
- and that those zombies will soon be close to my sister's house. Way
too close.

I yank out my phone
and ask Jake to call Rose and tell her to get everyone loaded up in
vehicles. There is no way they can defend that place - even if we all
went back - against so many. And the property is not even close to
being secure.

"Tell her to
drive the back roads at least twenty miles in the opposite direction
of the Interstate, but to keep watch and be ready to move even then.
Hopefully the horde will continue sticking to the highway, but no way
in hell do we need to take any chances. And...and tell her a lot of
them are the fast ones."

Jake nods and
pushes the buttons on my phone to connect him with my sister. I only
half listen as he repeats what I had said. Mostly, I'm looking for my
husband with a new intensity, even more scared for him now.
He
had a slim chance before, but now?
Now there is no way he can survive if he comes face to face with that
massive group behind us.

I hear Jake say
"Bye" and then hang up. He tells me my sister was already
yelling at everyone to grab what they absolutely needed for the next
day or so - just in case it's longer than a few hours - and to load
up.

I hope they
hurry! I wish we were all there to help them - to make sure they were
all safe. I wish I had my boys in my arms and my husband's arms
around me.

"Canada, do
you think we should try that town on the opposite side of the
interstate from your sister's; where your dad got the tow trucks?"

"Good
idea. But knowing my husband, he's going to hide - so we probably
won't find him even if he is there." I slam my hand on the
steering wheel in frustration, anger, and terror. "Damn it,
Jake! I just want to find him -
alive
- and beat the
hell
out of him! He
knows
I'm going to go looking for him, put my own life in danger. Why can't
he just
think
for once? He's so damn emotional; and apparently - after today -
gullible, too.
Men!
"

Jake
coughs and says, "Well,
some
men may be―"

"Oh
just stuff it up your ass, Jake.
All
men are. You included. So just shut up and look for Will."
I'm
not in the best of moods, obviously. No apologies. I believe I've
earned the right to rant and bitch when I want.

Jake decides to
keep his mouth shut and look for Will like I told him to. As we near
the small town, desperation settles like a rock in my stomach.

"Please God,
let Will be here and let us find him," I pray aloud.

Jake
snorts and says, "
God?
Really? If there's a God, why'd he do all this?"

"Are
you frikken serious, Jake?
God
didn't do this.
People
did this. And God didn't stop it - as I'm sure your next question
will be - because He gave us the freedom to make our own choices, to
choose our own paths, and to screw up big time if that's what we want
to do. He never said He would "
stop
"
or "
prevent
"
bad things from happening because of our own dumb ass choices."

"But
He supposedly answers prayers right? Well, you just prayed for Will
to be here and that we find him. What does that say about your God if
he
isn't
and we
don't
?"
Jake asks with a big grin and some major cockiness.

"It says God
answered my prayers."

Jake
gives me a bewildered look. "Do
what
?
What the hell are you talking about?"