Dead Series (Book 2): A Little More Dead: Gunfire & Sunshine (9 page)

Chapter
Eight

T
he black F-150 sped
down a winding two-lane highway, reversing the path Paul took in the Chevelle
to get here. With the ocean growing smaller behind them, he glanced at Wendy
riding shotgun, and then into the rearview mirror at Stephanie and Curtis
stuffed in the backseat. He shook his head with mild amusement or gross repugnance.
Back at square one with a new set of players on another road trip from hell, a twisted
blast from the past that reminded him of his old Jeep. He could still see
Sophia riding next to him with the sunshine kissing her skin and Dan, Carla,
Matt and Mike squeezed in the back. Those players were all dead now, their
games over. He failed them and there was no way to fix it.

“Are we there
yet?”

Paul’s gaze rose
to Curtis in the mirror. “Ask me that one more time and I swear to God I will
throw your ass out of this moving truck.”

“I’m sorry, I just
have to piss really bad,” he grumbled. “Man, can’t say anything without you
getting all butt-hurt about it.”

“Only when you say
it five hundred times! I’m not your fucking limo driver, Ricky Bobby.” Paul
turned back to the road and set his jaw against the anger brimming inside. His
nerves were on fire and he prayed this road trip wasn’t a mistake because that
would be on him and his guilt didn’t need the weight. They could’ve easily rode
the next few years out at the solar powered beach house, enjoying hot showers
and coffee, but they would let those things win the war and, after everything
they’d lost already, that was the one thing they could not afford to lose.

“We should steal
an RV,” Stephanie said. “This is really cramped back here.”

“RVs use too much
gas and are impossible to squeeze through blocked roads.” Paul white-knuckled
the wheel, wishing everyone would shut the fuck up. “Plus, they’re always
blowing radiator hoses and stuff.”

“Should’ve kept
the horses,” Curtis said, clicking his tongue. “A good horse will never let you
down.”

Paul shook his
head. Today wasn’t the first time he released a horse back into the wild of
America. He remembered Benji and the bearded man in the buggy and now he would
remember Gilly, Moses and Lady. They were free to roam the beach and he hoped
they could find food and water and evade capture at the hands of the enemy.

After stopping to
siphon gas from a Chevy Tahoe out in the middle of a Toys R Us parking lot,
they grabbed some food from the tubs in the truck bed and got back on the road.
A few times, the highway grew so choked with parked, or wrecked, cars they had
to turn around and find a different route, slowing their progress to a tedious
crawl. The lack of stragglers along the way almost made Paul feel better, but he
knew they were there. He couldn’t see them but he could feel them. Watching
from the shadows. Biding their time. Waiting to pounce. This is why he picked
the Tahoe out in the middle of a deserted Toys R Us parking lot where nothing
could sneak up on them. But sooner or later, those things would jump. It was
inevitable. He glanced at the others as he flew down the road. If he got any of
them killed during this next secret pit stop, he’d never forgive himself. And these
days, forgiveness don’t come cheap.

“You sure you
don’t want me to drive?”

Paul looked in the
mirror. “I got it.”

“I’m just saying
if you want to take a break, I can drive for a while. I mean, it’s kind of what
I did for a living and all.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen
the way you drive and I’d rather not end up like Paul Walker.”

Curtis opened his
mouth and Stephanie set a hand on his leg, making him slowly shut his trap.

Paul stepped on the
gas, eager to get there before darkness fell. Desperate to be close to her
again. All this driving gave them too much time to start asking delicate personal
questions like: How long were you married to Sophia? Where’d ya meet? Have any
kids? Pets? Questions that, in general, grated on his nerves.

The group fell silent
as another small town of dead cars and houses and shops whizzed past in a
dismal blur. It started sprinkling and, despite not having to spend a single
bullet thus far, it was hard to remain upbeat about anything. Reality wouldn’t
let them enjoy even the tiniest victory for long. They stared at a charter bus
pulled over on the side of the road with dead elderly people milling about like
they’d stopped at a scenic view. There was a state patrol car parked behind it
and Paul bet that if the battery hadn’t already gone dead, those flashing
cherries up top would still be lighting up the gray-haired corpses reaching for
the pickup.

“So I take it
BINGO is cancelled,” Stephanie murmured.

Paul stared at the
dead cop trying to eat through a bus window to get at them, his hope sinking.

“Paul, watch where
you’re going,” Wendy shouted.

He got into the
gas and easily swerved around the undead, wondering where they’d been going
when the infection spread through the bus aisles like dominos. Probably a Barry
Manilow concert at some nearby casino.

Soon, darkness
scratched the sky and Paul cursed under his breath. He hoped to be at Sophia’s
grave by now but it would have to wait until tomorrow – assuming he got a
tomorrow. Exhaling, he looked around, hating this part of their new life more
than anything else. He dreaded the idea of holing up in another strange house
with other people’s possessions and smells. His old bed called to him but most
of all he missed her touch. Her laugh. The way she liked getting ready for a
night out on the town more than the night itself.

“There!” Curtis
leaned forward and pointed off to the right.

Wendy slapped a
mag in with the palm of her hand. “An indoor go-kart track? Really?”

“It’s as good a
place as anywhere else. Might as well have a little fun instead of sitting
around like a bunch of sourpusses all night long.”

Paul pulled in.
The last thing he wanted to do right now was sit around in somebody else’s
house and stare at their pictures. It felt like they could see him through that
glass, like they knew he was trespassing in their home. But this place would be
different. Neutral. Clean. Hitting the headlights, he cruised around back to
find the backdoor hanging wide open.

“That can’t be
good,” Stephanie mumbled, checking her handgun.

Curtis snorted. “Hey,
at least they’re open.”

There was a
short-lived chorus of magazines clacking and clicking, slides racking and
locking before they exited the vehicle. Under the cover of dusk, they
cautiously approached the open backdoor. Paul peeked inside but it was pitch
black so he nodded at Wendy and she lit the place up. The dead state trooper’s
tactical shotgun felt good in his hands as he stepped inside the giant machine
shed. Lightning flashed and thunder vibrated the metal walls and high ceiling.
A twisting track snaked across the shiny concrete floor in front of him, marked
off by a red and black barrier system that looked new.

“Holy shit, I
think I’ve died and gone to hillbilly heaven,” Curtis muttered, stepping inside
with his twelve-gauge in his shoulder.

“Somebody’s probably
in here so be careful,” Stephanie whispered.

Paul took the lead
while Stephanie shut and locked the backdoor behind them, protecting their six…or
trapping them inside. He wasn’t sure which yet but they’d find out soon enough.
Inside a small booth next to a checkered starting line, they found a computer, two
flashlights, a dead cell phone and discarded candy bar wrappers.

Curtis passed a
flashlight that still worked to Stephanie, raindrops beginning to pelt the roof.
“Looks like somebody was here for a while and decided to take their chances
elsewhere.”

Paul scanned the
rest of the massive building that smelled like fresh paint and felt like
somebody was watching them. An open air snack bar in the round sat by the front
doors with comfortable looking couches and chairs positioned around it, flanked
by a silent arcade off to the side that only came to life when lightning
flickered.

“It looks brand
new,” Wendy said, swinging her light and gun around.

Their eyes
followed the beam to a tall cabinet with full face helmets resting on top that
looked like heads. A few yards over, sat a winner’s podium – complete with a victory
lane backdrop and all. Paul couldn’t help imagining three corpses standing atop
the podium, sneering for the cameras with bloody medals dangling from their
necks. After clearing the restrooms and a manager’s office, they raided the
snack bar and gorged on the only things that hadn’t yet gone bad: candy bars and
fucking chips. Paul sat on the glass counter with his legs dangling over the
edge, blurring the racetrack into a twisting blob, grinding barbeque potato
chips between his teeth. His body was here, but his mind was already with Sophia
up on that hill. He would see her tomorrow and still couldn’t believe she was
dead. It was like one of those nightmares that, no matter how ridiculous, seems
so damn real and he couldn’t get past the fact that…

Someone screamed
and grabbed him from behind, wrapping him in a bear hug that crushed his lungs.
Arms pinned to his sides, Paul dropped the chips to the floor and drew his
sidearm but couldn’t raise it. His heart pounded, face turning red.

Curtis let him go
and bellowed with laughter.

“Curtis!” Stephanie
snapped, physically holding her heart inside her chest. “You scared the shit
out of me!”

“You?” Paul cried,
giving Curtis the evil eye. “That shit is not cool, man!”

“I’m sorry, I
couldn’t resist.”

Paul jammed his
Beretta back into its holster. “I almost shot you.”

“Oh man, that shit
is too funny,” Curtis said, exhaling a winded breath and grabbing a Snickers from
a rack behind the bar. He unwrapped it and took an eager bite, looking everyone
over while he chewed. “Hey, you think that was scary, go try out the bathroom I
just destroyed.”

Wendy crinkled her
brow. “No thanks.”

Stephanie rolled
her eyes at Paul, giving him another silent apology from an orange couch across
the way.

“Well, this is
some kick ass set up.” Curtis nodded, admiring the track. “I haven’t been on a
go-kart since I was a kid.”

“Is that how you
got your start?” Wendy asked, leaning back in a matching armchair.

“Most of us NASCAR
rats started out karting; I cut my teeth on a bumpy dirt track out behind my
grandpa’s farm. But this place… This would’ve been awesome to have around in
the winter.”

“Our dad thought Curtis
was wasting his time on that track all day until he started beating the pants
off Troy every time.” Stephanie smiled warmly at her brother, a fond look softening
her eyes. “Next thing you know Dad was buying him an old stock car.”

“I’m surprised he
didn’t buy you a guitar as good as you sing,” Paul said, scooping his chips up
and making Wendy laugh.

“Actually, he did.”
Stephanie popped an M&M into her mouth. “And Curtis thought he was going to
be the next Garth Brooks.”

“I would’ve too,
if some ass-hat didn’t break into our house and steal it.”

Stephanie clapped
a hand over her mouth and snorted.

Curtis gave her a
double-take, eyes thinning. “What?”

She shook her
head, struggling to keep laughter from slipping through her fingers.

“No, come on. What’s
so funny?”

Stephanie snorted harder
and the sound made Paul and Wendy laugh. This triggered Stephanie’s wall to
collapse and she laughed so hard her eyes watered.

Thunder cracked
and Curtis threw his hands out. “What the hell is so goddamn funny!”

Stephanie raised a
finger into the air, momentarily gaining control of herself. “Dad staged that
break-in to get rid of your guitar,” she quickly spit out before cracking up
again.

“What!”

Paul threw his
head back and laughed at the twisted look gripping Curtis’ face.

Dragged in a
wheezing breath, Stephanie wiped her cheeks and caught her breath. “He took us
all out for ice cream that day and had Grandpa come over and steal your guitar
so we didn’t have to listen to your singing anymore.”

Curtis stared at
her for a few taken aback seconds, face souring. “Bullshit!”

“He also took some
of Mom’s jewelry just to make it look good.” Stephanie blinked out another tear,
her giggles beginning to boil again. “Dad made everyone promise to never tell
you.”

“Are you serious?”

Paul laughed even harder
and it felt good. “I like your dad already.”

“Did he really do
that?” Wendy asked.

Stephanie nodded,
running a finger under her eyes while Curtis snatched a Gatorade from a warm
cooler and grumbled under his breath.

Paul blew out a
long breath. “I bet that was the greatest day of your life.”