Friggin Zombies (21 page)

And sooner or later I'd probably have to kill them.

“Watch behind us,” I ordered. “Make sure no one gets on our tail. And help me watch for trouble,” I added.

“It's dark,” she noted.

“That happens when the sun goes down,” I nodded absently.

“Smart ass,” she shot back. “I meant it's
dark
. A lot of the lights are out.”

I had not noticed that so intent was I on escaping our almost prison, but she was right. About half the street lights were off, usually in strips of five or six. Almost like every other circuit was off or blown.

“I didn't mean it smart,” I told her. “I've been thinking about the sun being down when you would be out for a while now. Freaks come out at night,” I added, remembering an old song from my childhood.

“Too true,” she nodded as she turned to look behind us. “I don't think anyone is following us. Not that I can tell, anyway.”

“Keep an eye out,” I replied. “I'll change us up some as we go, take some wrong streets, that kind of thing. That should help us see if there's someone following us.”

I proceeded to do just that, weaving through traffic and turning quickly at odd places to  see if anyone pursued.

“Nothing,” Connie reported after the third such turn. “I think we're okay.”

“Then let's get home,” I said, pulling out onto the highway and gunning the engine.

“Let's do,” she sighed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Okay, so
saying
'Lets get home' is far easier than actually
doing
it sometimes. As we hit the main flow of traffic it became apparent that Madeline was not the only one trying to exert her influence on others. We could see roving groups of people that ranged from obvious gangs to collections of business owners to what looked to be more or less neighborhood watch patrols. The lights being off in places allowed the shine from a half dozen fires to glow against the night sky, giving the town a spooky look. Like something from a scary movie.

I didn't want to be in a scary movie. Or any movie for that matter.

Worse, I had not really taken into account how noticeable Big Baby was. I mean I never had worried about it since I always enjoyed showing her off, you know? What had always seemed to be a plus for all that hard work was now looking like an impediment.

“You know it's going to be hard to hide in this thing,” Connie said just then, almost as if reading my mind.

“I'd just thought of that,” I admitted. “Taking this thing seemed the way to go this morning. I thought we might need the power or the height to get around. You know? Now she's just a shining beacon telling everyone where we are.”

“They would know anyway,” Connie pointed out. “I was actually thinking that it would be hard to get around without drawing attention we might not want. We're obviously better prepared than, well, everybody,” she raised her hands in a shrug. “Panicky people tend to try and attach themselves to someone who can protect them. We look like that someone.”

She was right. Another thing I hadn't thought of, not really. Sure I went through that brief bit where I thought about James maybe wanting to impose on my non-existent hospitality, but otherwise I hadn't considered it. I mean, not many people knew I was into preparedness at all, so it never crossed my mind to be overly concerned about others wanting to make themselves at home on my dime.

Don't misunderstand me now. I got nothing against helping others where I can. But this wasn't shaping up to be one of those times. It was looking like a complete and total breakdown in society, followed of course by the potential for hordes of the walking dead dining on anyone they happen to catch up with.

At a time like that, I admit that helping others took a back seat to helping myself. Sounds bad maybe, but I prefer pragmatic. Doesn't do me any good to help someone at my own expense. We just both end up dead.

“You have an excellent point,” I sighed. “I hadn't considered it that way either. I'm used to hiding. Well, mostly,” I added. “Lot of people know I'm a shooter, or a hunter, or a prepper, but not all three. In fact only you really knew all that,” I admitted. “Moment of weakness for a pretty girl who happened to be a kindred spirit,” I grinned.

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes as she drew the word out. “So what do we do?” she asked.

“We go home,” I repeated. “Like I said, that was the rationale behind using this beast to start with. So we could get home, no matter what. If someone tries to stop us or follow us, we deal with it as it comes. There's really nothing else to do. But we are done venturing out into the world after this,” I told her. “No more. We've helped as many people as we can. We've done more than most and that's enough. It's seriously time we start looking after ourselves. Past it, really.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “All helping others has done is cause us more trouble.”

“Too true,” I had to agree. “Okay, we're almost to the bridge,” I noted. “Are we still looking okay?” I had no sooner than spoke when a set of headlights came bouncing out of a side street and onto the road behind us. I tensed, wondering if this was going to be a police car. I didn't want to shoot a cop but if he tried to stop us or take Connie back to that hospital then whatever happened to him was his fault I reasoned. 

“Is that a cop, you think?” I asked her, unable to look away from the crazy traffic for long. “And are they
following
us, or just behind us?”

“Lights are too bright, I can't make it out,” Connie admitted, turning in her seat to look between us. “Wait.” I waited but there was nothing else.

“How long do I wait?” I asked.

“It's a truck,” she said finally. “A low-rider from the look of it. That's why it looked like a car.”

“That could be good or bad,” I mused. “Good that it's not a cop sent to try and drag you back to the hospital-”

“Try?” she interrupted.

“Yeah that's not happening,” I assured her. “Or bad that it's someone who was waiting for someone like us who, as you pointed out, looks prepared.”

“Or it could just be someone who's in a hurry to get somewhere,” she added.

“That too,” I agreed. “Anything else? If it was a medical emergency they'd be going the other way.”

“True,” she mused. “Could be going to help a family member in trouble, or trying to get someplace they created with just this scenario in mind.”

“You mean an emergency in general or the Zombie Apocalypse?” I had to ask. “Cause if they anticipated the Zombie Apocalypse that doesn't seem to speak highly of their mental state.”

“Unless you're having a Zombie Apocalypse,” she pointed out wryly.

“Another good point,” I conceded. “What are they doing?” I asked as the lights behind us moved across my mirror.

“They're coming up beside us,” she warned, turning back in her seat and drawing her pistol. She held it in both hands, down between her knees.

“Hold on,” I ordered and hit the brakes. I didn't slam them on like in the movies since that's an extremely dumb thing to do (
especially
in a high profile vehicle) but I didn't just tap them like you would to get a tailgater to back off of your bumper, either. One of the upgrades I had made on Baby was an anti-lock brake system. It hadn't been cheap, but like I said; brakes locking on a ride this tall is a bad move.

Baby's speed dropped off in a hurry and the accelerating low rider raced by us. Now we would see what happened. I hit the gas again but not nearly as hard, waiting.

The low-rider's brake lights came on.

“Well, I guess that answers that question,” I sighed, downshifting manually and hitting the gas again. The truck looked as if it was going to try and cut us off and I timed it just right, hitting the left lane just as he hit ours, flooring the accelerator at the same time. Four hundred and fifty horses screamed beneath the hood as Big Baby shot past the truck, accelerating rapidly as we did so. As we shot by I caught a glimpse of a shotgun barrel in the driver's window.

“Gun!” I shouted, but Connie had already seen it. We were by before the shotgun could be used on us, but now it was behind us. I began to weave from one lane to the other hoping it would make us harder to hit. I already knew that there was no way for us to outrun this guy. His truck wasn't pushing nearly as much weight or rubber as Big Baby was and might have almost as much horsepower. We were going to have to try something different.

Connie reached across to the console and hit the switch for the rear window.

“What are you doing?” I asked her. Riding with the rear window open on one of these things was a first class invite to carbon monoxide poisoning.

“I can't stand someone on my ass,” she almost snarled and I very diplomatically didn't make the smart ass remark that came to me in a flash of male genius. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned in her seat.

“Are you goi-” My voice was drowned out and my night vision ruined for a few seconds by the flash of Connie ripping off three shots out the back window.

According to what she told me, since I couldn't see it myself, the low rider's windshield starred nicely and most likely scared the absolute shit out of the driver. The truck swerved sharply as the driver apparently slammed on his brakes. He had apparently not opted for the anti-locking upgrade because the truck wobbled twice, left to right, before sliding around sideways in the road and coming to a stop even as we roared away. Thankfully we had managed to outrun most of the other traffic so there was no one else close enough to hit the idiot. Connie turned around cool as a cucumber to roll the window back up and then refasten her seat belt.

“Nice.” That was all I had. Just could not think of anything else. Inappropriate or otherwise.

“Thanks,” she nodded, still just as cool as you please. If I hadn't already been in love with her, that would have done it right there.

Fifteen minutes later we pulled into the house with no further signs of trouble. Twenty minutes and Baby was hidden around back and we were inside behind locked gates and barred doors.

Thirty minutes and we were conserving water. Think about it, it'll come to you. 

*****

Connie dropped onto the sofa beside me still toweling her hair dry. She'd put on a pair of those wonderful boy shorts and a tank-top. I was wearing gym shorts and a tee while I surfed the news channels. My computer was open on the coffee table in front of me and a hand held scanner sitting next to it.

“So what's the word?” she asked.

“Nothing on the scanner about the 'incident',” I told her. “Probably didn't want to risk the report.”

“I wonder if they got our tag number?” she mused. “They might be able to use it to track us.”

“Would if it was the right tag,” I nodded absently. “It's registered to an undercover cop car. They run that tag and they got more trouble than a shot out windshield.”

“How did you get something like that?” Connie was astonished.

“Stole it,” I admitted easily. “It was out-of-date anyway,” I shrugged. “I keep tags on an old junker car to keep the stickers up to date. Never know when it might come in handy. I put it on before we left for the hospital this morning, just in case.”

“You are just full of surprises Mister Drake,” she shook her head as she curled up next to me. “So what else is going on?”

“Guard is out across the country,” I told her. “They're considering using the active military now for manpower but there's a political battle going on over all that.”

“What are they arguing about?” Connie was astonished.

“
Posse Comitatus
, believe it or not,” I told her. “It's amazing how little sense our elected officials actually have even in times like these.”

“You expected better?” she asked.

“No, not really. I did expect they'd all be in a bunker somewhere by now, citing the 'continuation of government' or whatever that phrase is.”

“Continuity,” she chuckled dryly. “The word you're looking for is continuity.”

“Yeah, that,” I agreed. “Anyway, the city is burning,” I got to the local stuff. “Turns out some of the glow we were seeing was coming from there, no just on the far side of town. Whole blocks are going up and there's not enough firemen to contain it. And that was before so many decided to abandon ship.”

“You blame them?” she asked me, leaning her head against my arm.

“Hell no,” I shook my head, raising my arm to wrap around her shoulders. “I would have been long gone myself already. This whole thing has been handled wrong from the start,” I added. “You can't tell me this couldn't have been contained. It would have taken some hard choices I don't deny, but it could have been done.”

“Take more courage than that outfit has,” Connie replied.

“They were probably too busy jockeying for position to worry about it,” I agreed. “Now it's probably too late.”

“Not certainly?” she asked, head raising to look at me.

“There's probably still time to get this under control,” I replied. “It will take someone with enough balls to make that decision though. And there is not a Napoleon among them,” I quoted from an old civil war story I'd read once about Shiloh.

“What's that mean?” she asked.

“It means that there's a clear path to follow, but no one to lead them down it,” I shrugged again. “There's only one way to stop this and that's to head shot every infected. Do it now, tonight, while you can. While you've still got the structure and the logistics to get the job done. Another day, two at most, and you won't have it. You're losing people every minute and some of them will be the people you're depending on. Just that simple.”

“Once you reach a point where everyone sees that we can't win, they cut their losses and hunker down to take care of themselves and their families. In some places it's already too late.”

“Like us?” she asked wryly, eyebrows raised.

“We're not soldiers, police, any of the emergency services personnel they need for this,” I shook my head. “We're actually doing the smart, best thing for them by staying the hell outta their way,” I pointed out. “Well meaning amateurs getting in the way just makes things worse. And it's definitely bad enough as it is.”

“Point,” she nodded. “Hungry?” she asked.

“I could eat,” I admitted, cursing mentally at the abandoned Double Big Jack sitting in the doctor's office of the ER. That right there was grounds enough to shoot that bitch Madeline if I ever saw her again. Probably the last one I would ever get, too.

“Keep an eye on things while I fix us a sandwich,” she said, getting to her feet. Before she could move her cell phone rang. We both looked at it with no small trepidation as she reached for it. The number was from the hospital.