The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers (28 page)

“Just think,” Rosenberg said as we studied the two crashed vehicles. “This entire tailback was probably caused by these two cars colliding.”

I watched the remains of an old couple in an Audi, struggling to free themselves from the restraints of the seatbelts, ripping apart the interior.

Eazy pulled alongside the two vehicles in a black BMW. “Okay, that’s as good as it’s going to get,” he said from the driver’s window. “Hop in the back seat.”

Rosenberg and I ran to the car and jumped inside, glad to be out of the persistent rain. Julia sat in the middle of the back seat looking thoroughly drenched and very tired. Eazy had turned the blowers up to maximum heat and the interior was welcomingly warm. He hit the gas and took us back down the I-78 towards the RV.

Eazy dumped the BMW at the side of the road and we climbed back onboard the RV. Soames went back to his Lexus behind. Smith had crawled into one of the bunks and lay sleeping. Batfish fired the engine as we took off our wet gear.

“Well done everyone,” Eazy said. “Now, who’s for a drink?”

“Aah, I could do with a gin and tonic after all that,” Julia said, slumping into one of the armchairs.

“Gin and tonics all round it is then,” Eazy said, badly trying to mimic an English accent. He moved to the cabinet where we’d stashed the booze and began fixing the drinks.

“Just a small amount of gin for me,” Rosenberg said raising his hand like he was in a school class. “And I don’t think Brett better have any.”

Eazy sighed, hesitating with the neck of the bottle positioned over a glass. “Come on, you guys. A little nip won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, fuck you, Rosenberg,” I said, hoping he’d find the humor. “Make mine a large one, Eazy.”

“Me too,” Julia said.

“That’s more like it,” Eazy said, smiling as he poured the drinks.

We felt the RV sway as Batfish steered around the vehicles we’d left in the middle of the road, either too wrecked to move or containing reanimated dead.

A second round of drinks swiftly followed the first when Batfish told us we were clear of the traffic jam. I felt pleasantly light headed halfway through the second glass of gin and tonic and watched the night sky flash past the side window.

“Don’t get too carried away with your celebration party, guys,” Batfish suddenly called from the cab. Her voice quivered with tension. “We got a cluster of dead folk up ahead.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Batfish gently slowed the RV. Eazy set his drink down on the worktop, moved quickly inside the cab and sat in the passenger seat. Julia, Rosenberg and I followed, clustering around the cab doorway looking out into the darkness. The headlights shone down the deserted Interstate, over the downward slope of the bridge. Dark silhouettes of buildings sat on the land mass below.

“We’re nearly across the other side,” Rosenberg said.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” Batfish warned. “There are at least a dozen zombies creeping around up there on the road.”

“I don’t see them,” I said, squinting into the darkness.

“Open your eyes, buddy,” Batfish scolded. “They are there.” She pointed out the windshield for effect, her eyes wide in panic.

Sure enough, a few skulking figures lurched out of the gloom into the headlight beams. The undead gang was led by a shaven headed male in a white vest and denims, heavily tattooed on his arms and shoulders. His arms lopped from side to side, shuffling slowly forward, making barking noises like a dog. Bite marks peppered his left arm with a large proportion of flesh and bicep torn away. Several figures loomed into the light behind him in the same slow, lopping movement. Some had limbs missing; some had internal organs dragging along the ground beside them. All emitted hungry growls and presented grasping, withered outstretched arms. White, dead eyeballs reflected in the headlight beams.

“Welcome to Jersey City, motherfuckers,” Eazy muttered. “They must have been attracted to those car alarms back on the bridge.”

“Shit! What do we do?” Batfish hissed. “We can’t turn back now.”

“
As I live and breathe, you have killed me. You have killed me,”
Lyrics from the Morrissey song span through my head. “Wow, that looks freaky,” spilled out of my mouth.

“Freaky is right,” Eazy said with conviction. “This whole trip has been freaky. Freaky is the world we live in now. Man, this is Scooby Fucking Doo freaky. Julia, make sure those side doors are locked,” he ordered. “Cos this thing is the Mystery fucking Machine, man and we definitely aint Scooby Don’t.”

Julia rushed into the back and checked the side doors were locked.

“Do your thing, Batfish,” Eazy sang. “Drive straight through those ugly motherfuckers.”

Batfish seemed buoyed by Eazy’s speech and put her foot down on the gas. Life or death, we needed someone like Eazy to keep us going. Someone who says “fuck the odds, we’re going to do this.”

I watched in mesmerized horror as the lurching zombies were brushed aside from the RV like dead branches from a fallen tree. Skulls smashed the windshield, bones cracked under the wheels and fender. Rotten blood and pulp smacked on each window. Broken bodies flew each side of the Interstate. The windshield cracked slightly as one hard skull hit, leaving a bloody imprint. Batfish leveled the steering with every bump and grind. Rosenberg and I hung onto the cab partition. Julia sat in one of the chairs, sipping her gin and tonic, looking terrified.

“Hey, I want one more of those,” I said, pointing to Julia’s glass. I moved to the living area and caught the gin bottle as it slid off the countertop due to a swerving maneuver. I poured myself a large gin and tonic before refilling Julia’s glass. “Let’s play some music,” I roared in rock star mode.

I moved to the sleeping quarters and rummaged through my bag of limited precious belongings. I found the CD I was looking for and returned to the living area, inserting it into the stereo. I put on the “Best Of Heavy Rock” and immediately selected the number 1 track, “The Ace of Spades” by Motorhead. I opened the side window and felt the wind rush through my hair and sang along to Lemmy’s hoarse vocals.

“
You know I’m born to lose, and gambling’s for fools, but that’s the way I like it baby, I don’t want t live forever.”

I turned back to the stereo and cranked the volume up on the line,
“I see it in your eye, take one look and die.”

The lyrics seemed to spur Batfish on. I took a peek in the cab and saw her fist pumping the steering wheel in time with the music.
Fuck, yeah!
We were back on track. The few of us against a world full of death.

The second track, “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath started and I howled like a wolf out of the window into the darkness at the zombies flashing by. The bemused look on their stupid faces was enlightening. I felt the rush of the wind and rain against my face. I turned back into the RV and everything seemed like a cartoon. The inside of the RV, Julia sitting in the chair, Rosenberg standing between the cab and the kitchenette, all pixilated in and out like a 1970’s animation. Colors shimmered and everything seemed two dimensional. I slid the window closed and shook my head. I suddenly felt light headed and dizzy.

The shapes, colors and dimensions turned to normal. I stumbled across the RV interior, wobbled and nearly fell over. I grabbed the side of Julia’s chair and slid down, half sitting on her lap. She giggled and moved over slightly so I could squeeze onto the seat next to her.

“Are you okay, Brett?” she asked, smiling. I think the booze and fatigue had got to us combined with the after effects of whatever the hell Doctor Fucking Doom and his chum had pumped into my veins.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I smiled back. “Feeling much better.”

“Good,” she said. “For a moment back there, I thought we’d lost you.”

Our faces were only a few inches apart. Her wet hair hung tousled around her face. I felt the warmth of her thigh next to mine. She smelled faintly of scent and rain. Her eyes were deep blue, full of zest and humanity. She bit her bottom lip slightly then moved her head gently forward. I responded and our lips met. We kissed slowly at first, then with more passion. Our tongues locked around each other’s. I tasted the gin on her lips. She held the back of my head and ran her fingers through my damp hair.

“Hey, you guys,” Eazy called from the cab. “The road is all clear as far as we can see. We’re through that bunch of dead bastards.”

Julia and I broke from our embrace. Rosenberg moved to the stereo and turned the music down.

Rosenberg gave a pathetic cheer and held both his hands in clenched fists as though he’d won a game of dominos or whatever the hell junior doctors play in their spare time.

“That calls for another celebratory drink, I think,” Julia said, hauling herself out of the chair. “Same again?” she asked me, taking my glass with a sexy smirk on her face.

I nodded and forced a weak smile. God damn! In the middle of all this, I was falling for somebody. I realized how much I liked Julia even though I hadn’t had the chance to get to know her very well yet. She seemed…perfect.

I watched the back of her as she refilled the gin and tonics. Her shapely back and butt, her legs and the half exposed calves where her pants ended. She flicked her hair and turned her head slightly to look at me, giving me that cheeky half smile again. I smiled back and felt my heart thumping in my chest.
Jesus, Brett Wilde, your libido is kicking in, my old son.

Julia came back with the drinks but disappointingly she didn’t sit back down on my lap. She handed me my glass and half sat, half knelt, the way girls do, on the floor in front of me.

“We’re going to have to find a place to stop soon,” Batfish called from the cab. “We’re nearly out of gas.”

“I think we could all do with a few hours rest as well,” Rosenberg chipped in. “Probably better to wait for daylight before we try and get into Manhattan.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “There’s no way we’re going to find any gas tonight. What the hell is the time, anyway?”

“Clock on the dash says 04:12,” Eazy said. “We’ll have to find a quiet spot to hole up for a while. The sun will be up in an hour or so anyhow.”

“I could sleep for a week,” Julia said before yawning.

I felt the general drain of fatigue but knew I wouldn’t sleep. I was happy to spend a stress free hour or so in darkness, resting with Julia at my side. I didn’t know what fate had in store for the pair of us or if it was a ludicrous lust thing. Maybe one of us would die in the next hour or so. Plans for the future were circumspect, long term relationships were practically nonexistent. We had to live for the moment, the minute, the second. Each one that ticked by was a little victory in the art of survival.

I moved my hand to Julia’s shoulder and then moved up to tousle her damp hair. She gave me that cheeky grin again. She kind of lowered her head slightly and looked at me with those gorgeous blue eyes with a slight smirk on her lips. I ran my finger across her cheek and realized I had some sort of stupid grin on my face. I gazed at the side window to check my reflection and felt horrified at what I saw. Was I infected or just looking like some crack addled maniac? Deep dark rings surrounded my puffy eyes and my pallor was the color of spoiled milk.

I let my gaze go deeper out, through the glass and into the New Jersey countryside. Dark trees flanked each side of the Interstate. We passed unlit signs for the Department of Recreation and the Liberty National Golf Club. I didn’t know New Jersey at all and felt slightly sad that I’d never taken the time to explore the area.

Rosenberg kept checking on Smith every five minutes or so. He checked his wrist for a pulse and his breathing. I somehow knew Smith would be okay, the guy seemed to be made of iron.

“The Jersey City Auto Pound is off the next exit,” I heard Eazy say to Batfish. “We should be able to get some gas there and maybe grab some Z’s for a couple of hours.”

“They have gas pumps there?” Rosenberg asked.

“I don’t know but they must have some cans or tanks on trucks we can get some gas out of,” Eazy replied.

Julia put her hand on my thigh and stroked it gently. I put my hand on top of hers and stroked her small, soft fingers. She looked up at me and gave me that sexy smile again. My stomach felt like a bunch of butterflies had hatched and floated around inside. I hadn’t felt like this since I’d met Samantha all those years ago.

I felt the RV slow down and glanced out of the side window. Batfish had pulled off the Interstate and a green sign told me it was junction 14C. We right turned along Jersey City Boulevard and Rosenberg excitedly pointed out a tall building behind an expansive car park to our left.

“That’s the Liberty Science Center,” he gushed. “It’s got loads of really cool stuff in there.”

“Did have, Denny,” I said. “
Did
have.”

Rosenberg looked disappointed at the memory of his ‘cool stuff,’ now nonfunctional and gathering dust in a changed world.

“Hey, you guys,” Eazy called. “I don’t mean to be a party pooper, an all but can you turn that shit off on the stereo? The noise might attract some unwanted party goers. Know what I’m saying?”

Rosenberg nodded and duly turned off the CD player, cutting off Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” in mid flow.

We right turned again, passed Rosenberg’s Science Center. Batfish had to negotiate the RV around several abandoned vehicles, which was more difficult on the single lane street. Julia and I both stood up and moved to the cab doorway to look through the windshield. Her hand slid into mine as we saw the Jersey City Auto Pound loom out of the darkness on our right. Batfish brought the RV to a crawl, the headlamps illuminated the heavy gated front entrance. A tall, sheet metal fence ran either side of the gates as far into the darkness as we could see. The fence was topped with strips of razor wire to stop intruders climbing over. A dull, gray blocked building stood inside the fence, to the left of the entrance gates.

“Jesus, this place looks like a prison camp,” I muttered. The Pound was gloomy and unlit with all the welcoming presence of a graveyard.