Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End (25 page)

30

“Why do you have to drive so damn slow, KB?” Rocky Roadkill hops out of the Man’s Ruin tour bus, a team that’s lost all of its members except two.

“Hey! Driving slow doesn’t use more gas! I told you we should have bought the smaller electric one,” Killer B counters, stress from the road making her uncharacteristically defensive. “Besides, we wouldn’t be out of gas if we just stayed at that last place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocky dismisses her friend’s reminder. Killer B wanted to make their stand in a small town they came to after finding their way out of Waterloo, a town one would have said had ‘nothing to speak of’, a plus now since it means less to worry about. But, Rocky insisted on getting to the east coast, they compromised and stayed a few weeks. She is adamant that they can find a place in Massachusetts, or in one of the surrounding states, deep in the woods, preferably on top of a large hill.

The pair have made it north to the highway Rocky plans on taking all the way east, opting for this over all the other possible routes due to her familiarity with it. She claims to know every point of interest along the way; every town, every gas station. They have made it almost half the distance between the Midwest and their target before running out of gas.

“So,” Killer B says, trying not to sound like a nagging wife, “where’s the nearest town?”

Rocky looks down the stretch of deserted highway. “Sinclair should be a ways that way.”

“Should be?”

“Is!” Rocky assures. “I doubt they moved a fucking town.”

The two are silent, Killer B watches her team captain lace up her skates. When she grabs her own Rocky halts her. “No, you stay here. I’ll go and get the gas. Happy?”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” the blonde says with concern, though annoyed with one another she’d hate for anything to happen to Rocky.

“I won’t be long,” Rocky assures her. “You know me, in and out.”

“But, what if…?” Killer B begins to ask and is silenced by a raised hand from her friend.

Her head cocked to the side, Rocky listens. She hears a motor in the distance, closing in. Having been around quite a few in her day she recognizes it as a motorcycle, a Harley Davidson if she isn’t mistaken. “Get on the bus.”

“What is it?”

“Get on the fucking bus,” she rasps, shoving her teammate toward the door.

It’s too late. Killer B is stunned by the sudden urgency. Before she can do as she is told what Rocky heard in the distance is upon them. The throaty engine cuts off, the rider has stopped a safe distance from them, a precaution in case of trouble. Rocky moves between her friend and the stranger.
One can’t be too careful these days
, she thinks.

“Just what every hero hopes for, a pair of damsels in distressed clothing,” the man on the bike says as he approaches on foot. He has a shotgun casually over his shoulder.

“What the fuck do you want?” Rocky inquires, her body is tense in anticipation of a fight.

“Just seeing if you needed help,” the man says calmly. He’s an older gentleman, though his years are hard to gauge due to thick scabs on one side of his face. “Don’t worry, I’m not on the prowl. See, I recently had to abruptly end the best relationship I’ve had in decades. I’m a little vulnerable at the moment. Of course, I wouldn’t be opposed to a casual fling.”

“No thanks, hamburger head,” Rocky blows off the advance. “Why don’t ya keep moving?”

“Plan to,” he simply says. “But, no offense, the offer was a joke. You just remind me too much of myself. If I was serious I’d be talking to blondie anyway. You outta gas?”

Rocky can see the guy’s ride has a sidecar full of guns, strapped to the back with a bungee cord is a red can of gasoline. She wonders what they’ll have to do for it. “Nope. Just stretching our legs.”

“Yes!” Killer B admits. “We just ran dry.”

“Bad place for it,” the guy looks around, there’s nothing for miles, just trees and fields. “There’s a town a bit ahead of you…”

“Sinclair,” Rocky finishes, “I’ve been there a few times a while back. Small place. Nice people.”

“I beg to differ about the folks, fuckers would eat you alive. Place is dead now. On the outskirts is an impound lot of sorts. I can give you enough fuel to get there. What’s the plan after that?”

“None of your…”

“We’re going to Mass,” Killer B says, interrupting her pal.

“Didn’t strike me as religious girls, but to each their own,” the guy smirks.

“Massachusetts,” Killer B corrects him, missing his pun. “Bedlam.”

“Name like that the place must be a real hoot. Never been there, it nice?”

“It’s home,” Rocky says.

“Around the New Hampshire border, you might see a black truck in the ditch if you’re looking hard enough. On the back is a drum of gas if you need it.”

“Why are you helping us?” Rocky suspiciously pries.

“It’s what Kings do,” the man explains, as if that comment wouldn’t need explaining as well, in fact he was counting on it.

“You’re a King?” Rocky asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve got a nice realm back the way you came called New Castle. The name’s Bruce.”

“Well, King Bruce, thanks for the tidbits,” Rocky snarkily ends the encounter. “Now please go fuck yourself.” 

“Gotcha,” King Bruce concurs. “As much as I’d love to spend all day wagging tongues with you ladies, and you certainly seem to need a good tongue wag, I have to hit a rest area and fill up since I’m giving you my gas can. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I can’t wait to write about this in my diary, as long as nothing more pressing comes up.”

“Diary?” Rocky asks with a smirk as the man heads toward his bike.

“Uh, diarrhea,” he unconvincingly covers. “I said ‘I have diarrhea’. Another reason I should scoot. If Bedlam proves to be too rough, try Vermelho, NH. I personally cleared most of the dead so it should be nice and quiet. Head up the big hill that overlooks the quarry—don’t go down into the quarry, that’s where I put all the zombies—There’s homes up there next to the smoldering remains of my childhood. Or, you could follow me to New Castle…”

“Yeah, so we can bow our heads to you,” Rocky quips.

“You don’t have to bow your head, not that I don’t appreciate a nice bob once in a while to be honest with you, but that’s not a requirement,” Bruce quips right back at her from his bike. “We’re on the maps, come if you like.”

His engine roars, but before taking off he sets down a can of gas and lays his shotgun on the road along with a box of shells for them and a coiled length of transparent tubing. “I’m throwing in a syphon in case you need to suck your way through the shit towns.”

“I’ve been there,” Rocky shrugs.

“Hey, in exchange for the gas, how ‘bout a tug?” the man asks.

“I’m not…” Rocky angrily scowls.

“Not that kinda tug!” the man corrects here. “I mean from the hootch you reek of.”

Rocky produces a bottle and hands it over. She watches the man take a prolonged gurgling sip, the way a kid drinks from a soda. If he feels the burn of the alcohol it doesn’t show. He hands back a much lighter bottle. The look of dismay over how much he has consumed doesn’t escape him. “Don’t worry. I put some of it back for you.”

“Keep it,” she tells him, giving it back. It’s been a long while since Rocky has met a man she respected.

“Obliged,” he says. “Seriously, if your little trip east winds up going south, come on out west.”

The mysterious stranger leaves them. The vibration of the Harley tightens Rocky’s chest and awakens her physical desires. She tingles as she watches him grow smaller in the distance as her friend runs to collect the offering. Killer B returns to Rocky’s side and sees something on her face she can only imagine to be regret.

“Should we go to this New Castle?” the blonde asks.

“Hell no!” Rocky snaps out of it, taking her eyes from the dot to the west. “Just thinking,”
there goes the last dick on Earth. I shoulda fucked him
.

31

“We’ve been driving forever!” Hippo complains. He continues to groan just to hear his echo in the dark restroom.

“I know,” Killian tells his baby brother, he empathizes with the boy’s frustration, but there’s little he can do to solve it. Their mother has been very overprotective since meeting back up, he had to shout at her to leave them alone to use the bathroom in this rest area. The youths relish their time away from her.

“Can’t we just go somewhere?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere!” Hippo lets his voice boom, he holds the final syllable to make it resonate the stone walls. “But nowhere cold. I’m sick of winter.”

“It’s spring.”

“But, it will be winter again. I want to go somewhere that’s not going to get cold. Florida.”

“What’s in Florida?”

“Story Book Land,” the boy says. “And, oranges. Remember Nanna Carol used to send us boxes of them every year before she died. She always said she had so many she didn’t know what to do with them.”

“Yeah,” Killian ponders his brother’s idea. “And, the ocean. We could grab a boat, live just off shore and fish.”

“I like fish,” Hippo states.

“So does mom. All right, we’ll turn around and head south.”

“Will mom want to go to Florida?”

“We’ll have to convince her,” Killian explains. “We’ll make it seem like her idea and that it’s the best thing for us.”

The boys head out of the bathroom. Their mother waves to them from the gas pumps, smiling proudly that she got the nozzle to work. She fills red canisters that she found in the market to save her another battle. The place was devoid of movement, she made certain to look around before letting her boys out of the car. Anything that might have been a threat had been eliminated, she instructed her children not to look at the bodies, especially not to look at the dead man on the motorcycle on the other side of the pumps.

She couldn’t help but to gaze at the poor soul, his death was obviously self-inflicted. He shot himself after being bitten. Though she was sure that he was dead, she felt great fear when she reached past him to retrieve one of the many guns stuffed in his side car. She took an M-16 away from Killian once they found a car on Eagle Rock, but neither of them knows how to load it. They left it on ‘safe’ and stored it in the trunk. The .38 revolver she knows how to use, her father taught her when she was very young. The second time she explored the sidecar was a bit easier, after grabbing a box of ammo for the pistol she decided not to go in a third time.

“Is this one?” Hippo asks his brother again and again, picking up rocks. “How about this?”

“No,” Killian answers with barely a glance at the rocks his brother holds out for his inspection.

“How about this?” Hippo asks.

“No—Oh, wait!” The latest rock is whitish in color, almost perfectly round like a baseball. His brother had to kick at a patch of dirt to remove it from the ground.

Hippo places the rock in his brother’s hand so he can judge the weight, geodes feel much lighter than regular rocks due to being hollow. Killian bounces it on his palm and smiles. “I think it…”

“Boys!” their mother calls, waving emphatically for them to join her. “Hurry! Get in the car!”

They look around for the immediate danger and see nothing, their slowness forces her to rush to them and take their hands. She hurries them to the car as fast as she can.

“My geode!” Hippo protests when the rock falls to the ground. He pulls out of her grasp to retrieve it. Susan picks him up around his waist and carries him the rest of the way while he squirms in protest of the embarrassing display.

“There’s a truck coming! We have to go!” she quickly explains as she shoves them in. “Buckle yourselves in!” she yells, racing around to her door.

“We should see who it is…“ Killian suggests.

“…before freaking out,” Hippo finishes the sentiment. He’s still steamed over being hefted like a small dog, but content that he was able to retrieve his alleged geode.

“I’m not freaking out!” She starts the engine and speeds away from the approaching semi in the distance, hoping they haven’t been spotted. She may be scared, she may be concerned over taking care of her boys, but she doesn’t want to rely on anyone. She’d hate to trust another person just to be betrayed, or for her kids to become attached only to lose yet another person.

“Mom, we can trust some people, you know,” Killian assures her.

“Not according to all the movies I watched growing up,” she mutters, darting glances at her rearview mirror to see where the large, foreboding truck is. The tractor-trailer turns into the rest area they have just left.

“What movies?” Hippo asks.

“Horrible movies!” she answers quickly. “Set during times such as these. There was always people doing bad stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Just play with your rock, Hippo.” Her nerves are shot, her hands tremble on the wheel. She needs the boys to be quiet so she can relax, return to her fretting over what they should do next.

“I’m getting hungry,” Killian announces. He glances to his brother to see if he will join him in guiding their mother’s thinking. Hippo is busy actually doing what his mother asked him to, playing with his rock, pretending that it is a meteor flying through the sky. “I could really go for some fish.”

“I like fish,” Hippo agrees, his eyes widen as he gazes at the small bumps on the object he found.

“Fish sounds good,” their mom agrees.

“With some lemon juice…” Killian leads. “Too bad the only fresh fish are in the ocean.”

“And, ponds and lakes,” Hippo adds earning himself a nudge from his brother that warns him not to oversell it.

“I bet there’s lemon trees in Florida. Didn’t Nanna Carol say that?”

“That she did,” the mom says.

Frustrated that she hasn’t connected the dots on her own, Killian will have to risk the suggestion. “I think we should go there, find a dock and take a boat just off shore. I doubt zombies can swim, could be the safest place to be.”

“Florida gets hurricanes,” the mom shoots down the idea.

“And, the Midwest gets tornadoes. California gets earthquakes,” her oldest reminds her. “At least if the weather gets bad on the ocean we can move up or down the coast, right?”

“That’s true,” she acknowledges his logic with a nod.

He hears his mother’s stomach rumble.
Time to bring this home
, he tells himself. “I’m just getting sick of living off junk food, some fruit would be nice. You once told me that a lot of diseases can be prevented by proper nutrition; scurvy, rickets, what else?”

Hippo watches in awe as his brother works his magic, like a puppeteer. He holds his breath waiting for the hook to set and for Killian to reel her in.

“Beriberi,” Susan adds to the short list making her youngest laugh. “No, Hippo, it’s serious. Usually seen in alcoholics with thiamine deficiencies, it can cause…”

“So, all these terrible things can be avoided by eating the right foods?” Killian interrupts.

“Yeah,” she responds, thinking about what they’ve been eating lately.

“Did their mothers’ never teach them how important it is to eat fresh fruits and vegetables? Fish has a lot good stuff too, right? Omega-3s?”

“That’s true,” she agrees. “All right. You win, we’ll head to Florida.”