The Dead Road: The Complete Collection (4 page)

Eli laid down beside me. "You're shooting from here?"

"We don't have a choice." I sighted in the BMW. Monsters lumbered past my view as they milled, trying to find a new pattern, a new course of action. I waited for an opening. I could feel my pulse in my ears. I lined up the shot - it would go through the driver's side window and the windshield. It should be enough to set off the alarm. I took a breath, putting my finger on the trigger. One heartbeat. Exhale. Squeeze.

The shot rang out in the night, echoing through the forest. At the last moment one of the things stepped into the line of fire. The bullet hit it in the chest, knocking it off of its feet as gore splattered against the car. The entire crowd stopped moving and turned towards us. "Holy shit!" Eli whispered. I cocked the bolt and aimed again. My heart was racing. They knew something was out here. Something loud. They were going to come this way to find out what. The one closest to us took a shuffling step. The rest started to follow. I could see the window, dripping with blood.  I held my breath. I squeezed the trigger.

The glass shattered. The car erupted into a cacophony of sirens and honks. The lights flashed, the horn blared. In the silence of the night it sounded like a parade. All the times I had heard car alarms going off I never noticed how loud they were. This one hurt my ears. The things stopped, all turning to face the car in unison. There was no hesitation this time. They all lumbered towards the car, hoping for the chance of food. I grabbed my keys out of my pocket and tossed them to Eli. "Go!"

He grabbed them up and got to his feet, sprinting to the car. I forced myself up and started to hobble. It was only a couple hundred feet. I winced and swore as I moved, barely able to put any weight on my foot. I was hopping across the grass, sucking air in through clenched teeth. I saw Eli fumble with the keys, then the tail lights flashed as he hit the unlock button on my keychain. He climbed in and started the ignition. I saw a few of the zombies turn to face him instead. I tried to speed up, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. Another fifty hops. He put the car in reverse and backed it to the edge of the lot. I could hear him yelling. "C'MON MAN! GO! GO!"

Four of them lumber towards us. Now five. Their arms outstretched, grasping at empty air. Eli shoved the passenger door open. I was twenty feet away. I hopped in and almost fell into the seat. I could feel a cold, dead hand clutching at my ankle. Eli hit the gas. The car lurched forward as we squealed the tires. The hand flailed to try to grab on to something, but we were suddenly out of reach.  I pulled my leg into the car and closed the door as Eli turned onto the road. We were safe, for now.

*****

We drove the couple of miles in silence. Neither of us wanted to talk, to risk breaking the feeling of peace that settled. It was a respite, nothing more. We weren't out of danger by any means, but for the moment we could convince ourselves it would be
alright. We saw the wooden bridge up ahead. Eli's car was parked to one side. Eli smiled. "Fuck'n A."

We pulled alongside the car. Roger was in the driver's seat. He smiled at us and rolled down the window. "Holy shit you made it."

Eli laughed, then whooped in triumph. "Was there any fuckin' doubt, man?"

I gave Roger the thumbs up. I was tired. My foot throbbed.

Roger looked at me with concern. "He alright?"

"Yeah, man. His foot's infected though. We gotta get him to a doctor or something."

"Pharmacy," I croaked out, "and a shoe store."  the absurdity of the request made me chuckle.

Roger nodded. "Hey, yeah. OK, but check this out. I've been here for a couple of hours, scanning radio stations. Turn on 88.9."

Eli fiddled with my radio. All of my presets were blank, nothing but the soft hiss of white noise. He manually tuned in 88.9. Nothing. Eli shrugged at Roger.

"Turn it way up. Listen."

Eli cranked the volume all the way up. There was a crackle of static. Then another. Then I heard it. A voice. A woman's voice, soft, buried in the noise. I listened close, leaning in towards the dashboard.

"All dead -- avoid Stockton -- in ruins. They -- its lost now -- Maybridge. Broadcasting from -- Wheeler Hill. Repeat, don't --- avoid Stockton."

I looked at Roger.  He nodded. "You heard that? Stockton's the next town, but Maybridge is only a few miles past that, probably ten or fifteen minutes on these country roads."

"Do you know how to get there without going through Stockton? I don't want to deal with a town full of these things."

Roger grinned and nodded, "I'm pretty sure I do. I know it's not the best news, but this means someone's alive out there.  We go to Maybridge, we can find help."

Eli grinned and slapped the steering wheel. "Shit yeah, man! Let's roll!"

Roger smiled, "Follow me, gentlemen."

We pulled into the road behind him, and started off. He was right, this wasn't the best news. Stockton was in ruins. All dead. Those words haunted me as we drove. I looked at the digital display on my radio. 3:32 AM. Another hour and a half and the sun would be coming up.

Maybridge. I didn't know where Maybridge was, but if there was someone alive there it didn't matter. I closed my eyes. Three men chasing a voice. It was barely anything at all, but it was all we had.

~Volume Two: Maybridge ~

The sun was coming up, and we were secure in the fact that we were not the last men on Earth. The radio signal we heard from Maybridge, Vermont was still faintly audible through the haze of white noise. "Avoid Stockton
" it said, "all dead." Roger drove. Eli sat in the front sit, cradling my hunting rifle like a kid with his favorite stuffed animal. I lay in the back, my foot elevated, hanging in a makeshift sling suspended from the laundry hook above the door. It hurt, but at least it had stopped bleeding. It was probably infected.

Roger leaned back a bit to make sure I heard what he was saying. "Maybridge is coming up. Ten more minutes I'd say."

I leaned up on my elbows. "Try to find a pharmacy or something. I need to clean out this cut and get it bandaged."

Eli snickered, "And a shoe store."

Roger chuckled. Sure the joke was at my expense, but right now I wasn't going to begrudge a little bit of a laugh. I smirked and lay back down. "Yeah, one running a sale on hiking boots."

We drove the rest of the way in silence. For that glorious moment I could almost forget that the world was being overrun by monsters. I could almost forget that we were following a barely audible radio signal in hopes of finding someone else alive.

I pulled my foot out of the sling, careful not to knock it against Roger's seat, and sat up. The sign on the side of the road read
Maybridge, Founded 1802, Population 1309.
I said "Not exactly New York."

Roger nodded. "You thought Stockton was a sleepy little town, and this place is half the size. I remember coming out here because my mother wanted to go to some antique store one summer."

Eli fidgeted with the rifle, eyes glued on the road ahead.

Crossing the town line didn't affect the scenery. The road was still narrow, the forest still encroached on both sides, and there was still no sign of any sort of life.

Roger turned off the radio. The hiss of white noise vanished, as did the tiny voice whispering the same message over and over. Up ahead was a gas station, the faded sign displayed "Earl's Fuel", the red painted letters chipped and flaking. He slowed down, letting the engine quiet, drifting down the road towards the entrance to the station.

Eli looked at him, "We need gas or something?"

Roger shook his head. "Half a tank still, but there's probably a first aid kit for Alex, and if there's a way to fill up, we probably should."

Earl's looked abandoned. The small office was dark, the garage door was closed, and the only cars in the lot looked like they had been sitting there for months. Roger guided the car up to the garage then put it in park. "Alright Alex, you stay here, we'll go check the place out."

I scoffed. "Fuck that."

Roger rolled his eyes, "Dude, you can barely walk."

"I don't care. I'm not sitting in the car, defenseless, with no ability to run away.  If one of those things comes over and I'm trapped in here, what do you want me to do? Lock the doors and hope you guys didn't get eaten inside?"

Eli nodded. "Alex has got a point, man. We should stick together. We can't leave him."

Roger sighed and shook his head, "Fine, but I think it's a bad idea. Just going on the record saying that now."

I shifted along the seat to the door and popped it open, rotating myself to step out of the car with care. I put my left foot down first, then stood, keeping just the toes of my right foot on the ground. It would be slow going, but walking across pavement was a hell of a lot easier than limping through the woods.

Eli got out and pulled the bolt on the rifle. Roger grabbed the hatchet from under his seat and turned to look at us both. "Alright, I'm going to make my way up to the office door. Let's try to stay quiet, and keep calm." Eli and I nodded together, and watched Roger pad his way slowly up to the door.

The building looked right out of a Norman Mailer painting. There was a small corner office, with two large windows overlooking the pumps on one side and the large lot on the other. The blinds were drawn, preventing us from seeing inside. The top half of the door held another window, but it was frosted glass, like it was taken from a bathroom somewhere. "Earl's" was painted on the glass in stenciled letters, the edges chipping and discolored.

Roger tried the door. Locked. He went around the side of the building, then came back with a shrug. "Looks like this is the only way in," he whispered, "unless the garage is open." Eli jogged to the garage door and grabbed the large handle, pulling upward. It shimmied in its tracks, but didn't budge. The pair came back to the car while I moved to sit on the hood.

Roger wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and leaned in to whisper, "Alright, we got two options the way I see it. We can either move on and try our luck going in to town, or we break in, risking that Earl is inside waiting for a snack."

Eli cleared his throat, steadying his quavering voice. "Alex's foot is pretty bad, and the closer to town we get the more people there were, which means more of those things in our way. I think this is our best shot guys."

I nodded in agreement. While the idea of finding a pharmacy or a doctor's office was more appealing than foraging for bandages and antiseptic in a garage, Eli was right. If we went in to town there was a good chance we'd run across more zombies, and the only way we had to effectively get rid of them was likely to attract more. "Just kick the door in, Roger."

Roger lifted one booted foot and slammed it into the door, just to the left of the handle. Wood splintered, paint chips fell from the frame, but the door held. He kicked again. We could hear the wood cracking under the strain, but it still remained shut. Roger paused, taking a few breaths before rising up to kick again. That's when we heard it.

It was faint, but distinct: a low groan. Eli immediately brought the rifle up to his shoulder. "Where the fuck was that from, man?" His eyes were wide. I could see his hands shaking.

Roger held out his hand to us, waving us silent. Eli's panicked breathing sounded like a dog panting in July heat. I swallowed the lump in my throat, listening carefully, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. We heard it again.

Roger looked back at me and whispered "I think it is inside."

I closed my eyes and nodded, sighing in defeat. "Let's go then."

"No fucking way, man!" Eli was shaking. "We're killing that fucking thing and getting your foot bandaged up!" I could see in his face that Eli was on the verge of breaking. He was taking short breaths, his cheeks were pale, but there was something in his eyes that told a story of raw determination, an animalistic need to be the hunter instead of the hunted. "We're killing that fucking thing."

I looked at Roger. He seemed as shocked as I was. I looked back at Eli. "Okay. Okay, Eli. Just calm down a little. I don't want you shooting when you're twitchy like that."

The thing groaned again. We saw a blurred hand come up to rest against the frosted glass, the skin gray, dragging a smear of bloody goo across the inside of the window. I was reminded of a dozen horror movies I had seen as a teenager, and a shudder of primal revulsion passed through me. Eli took aim. Roger gasped and held up both hands towards him, "Whoa whoa! Hold on!"

Eli pulled the trigger. He was nervous. He was edgy. I’m not even sure he saw Roger standing between him and the thing behind the door. Eli’s world had become a single moment, and he wasn’t going to be at the mercy of monsters any longer. Roger flinched as the shot echoed out. The glass shattered. For a moment we could see the thing inside, a man wearing a green collared shirt with “Big Earl” embroidered over the breast pocket.  His right cheek was torn and ragged, the flesh black and festering. That was where he was bitten. That’s how he caught it – whatever it is.

Black, greasy blood ran down Big Earl’s forehead. The bullet entered above his right eye. The splatter of gore on the wall behind him showed where it exited. He let out one last groan and collapsed like a marionette that had its strings cut.

Roger looked at us both with a dazed expression. That bullet probably passed so close to him he could hear it whizz through the air.

Eli turned to me, lowering the rifle. “Let’s find you some bandages.”

I could only nod mutely. Only a few hours ago Eli was crying in a ditch, ready to give up. Something in him had changed. He was mad, tired of being the prey. He was ready to take his place at the top of the food chain back by force, one monster at a time.

Roger lowered his hands finally. “Holy shit Eli, you nearly fucking shot me!”

Eli shrugged. “But I didn’t.” He walked to the door, reached through the broken window, and unlocked bolt.

I shifted my weight and started to limp after him. “Just be on your guard. There may be more of those things inside.”

Eli nodded, shooting me a quick wink over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, man. I got this.” He opened the door part way, the bottom leaning against Big Earl who lay lifeless on the other side.

Inside was a dingy office, the faux wood paneled walls gray with soot and oily residue. A large desk sat in the middle, covered with jumbles of paperwork, a collection of small parts from some forgotten engine, a rolodex, and a fifteen year old computer attached to an equally antiquated dot matrix printer. On the wall was a sign that read “In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash” just above a calendar where a busty woman in red shorts was pulling her t-shirt over her head and revealing her breasts.  The chair was on its side on the floor. Beside it was a first aid kit, open, the contents strewn about in a semicircle. Next to that was a splatter of foul-smelling liquor. It made the whole office smell like rotting meat.

“Check it out, man. Looks like Big Earl was looking for something.”

I nodded as I leaned against the door frame. “He probably pulled that stuff out after he got bitten, then got sick. After that, he just laid there until he turned.”

Roger grumbled something about taking a look around and walked away. He looked upset, but he knew this was no time for arguments.

Eli pushed against the door, sliding Big Earl’s bulk far enough that he could squeeze inside. Broken glass crunched under his boots. “Stay out here, man. Won’t be good if you get another cut. I’ll get the kit and bring it out.” I gave a quick nod. It was probably the smartest thing Eli had said since this whole thing started. I limped back to the car, sat on the hood, and lifted my foot to take a good look at the damage.

It wasn’t as bad as it felt. I almost expected to see the sole of my foot torn to shreds, oozing and pus-filled, but it was just a single cut along the ball of my foot. It was dirty, and caked with dried blood, but was ultimately a manageable injury.

Eli came back out in a couple of minutes carrying the first aid kit in both hands. “He’s got all kinds of stuff in here, man. I don’t even know what half of it’s for.” I just shrugged as he set it down and started hunting around for antiseptic and bandages.  Eli said “I’m going to go back inside, look around some more. See if there’s anything else we can use.”

“Boots.” I said.

Eli furrowed his eyebrows and looked at me oddly.

“Big Earl’s boots. Pull them off. Socks too if they’re not too disgusting.”

I saw a shudder pass through him but he nodded, heading back inside.  I agreed it wasn’t a pleasant thought to pull the boots of a dead mechanic, but the world wasn’t a pleasant place anymore.  The kit had iodine swabs, antiseptic ointment, a small bottle of peroxide, gauze, and medical tape. I set to the task of dressing my wound, calling on the specter of my first aid training from that one year I worked as a lifeguard on Long Island.

I was wrapping the bandage around my foot when Roger came back around from behind the building. He held a shotgun in his right hand. “Where did you get that?”

“I found Big Earl’s last stand. His tow truck is in the back, and one of those things had its head blown off next to it. This was in the front seat. Found some spare shells in the glove compartment too.”