The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers (15 page)

Rosenberg explained that Smith’s wound wasn’t as bad as he first thought. The bullet passed straight through the shoulder without hitting any bones or arteries. Eazy’s ass wound was just a patch up job.

I pulled the VW back onto the Interstate and drove the wrong way along the lanes, back to Julia and Kell’s Datsun. I assumed she was now going to stay with us and not continue alone on the trek to Kell’s uncle in Allentown. I turned the VW around and stopped next to the central barrier.

“Julia, do you want to get your things,” I said.

Julia shook her head. Her face was pale and stained with tears. She didn’t want to get out of the vehicle on her own. Seeing Kell die in such a horrible way had broken her resolve.

“I’ll get out with you,” I tried to sound reassuring but heard an emotional croakiness in my own voice which didn’t sound convincing.

“What are we going to do with Donna,” Rosenberg whispered.

Batfish set off in floods of tears again. “She was my best friend.”

I didn’t want to seem disrespectful or unkind but we had to get rid of the body soon before it started to decompose. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Batfish.

“Rosenberg, you come with us over to Julia’s car,” I said.

Rosenberg looked shocked and confused. He didn’t want to get out of the VW either.

“We’ll be okay,” I said and drew the Beretta. I motioned to the door with my head.

“Oh, okay,” Rosenberg mumbled.

We helped Julia out the back of the camper. She reluctantly followed us over the central barrier towards her car. We checked the Datsun’s interior for any sign of the undead and relieved to see it was clear. While Julia was grabbing her gear, I discussed with Rosenberg what we were going to do with Donna’s body. We agreed we’d stop and bury her at some point before we hit New York City.

I carried on with the driving duties. More abandoned cars lined the Interstate but I kept a steady speed to navigate the VW through them. We crossed the state border into New Jersey State and I felt as though we had achieved some small milestone. I suddenly felt a surge of panic, like this wasn’t such a good idea and wanted to suggest we turn back and go someplace else. I kept my thoughts to myself but felt we were heading towards a shit storm of unimaginable proportions.

Chapter Twenty

We turned off the Interstate by Hidden Valley Park to look for a spot to bury Donna. Rosenberg quietly explained the situation to Batfish, who tearfully agreed with the plan. Rosenberg and Eazy covered Donna’s body with more old blankets and I stopped the VW by a small wooded area. I didn’t want to travel for too long on the back roads for fear of becoming trapped or blocked in by abandoned vehicles.

Everyone exited the vehicle to stretch their legs. The camper was cramped inside and they had to sit at odd angles to accommodate all the baggage. Spot ran to the clump of trees and cocked his leg up one of the trunks. We smoked a cigarette and took in the fresh air. I was desperate for a shower. Rosenberg and I looked for soft earth which could be dug easily.

“Anyone got a shovel?” Eazy asked.

Batfish shook her head. One thing we didn’t have was tools to bury the dead.

“I saw some signs for a campsite a couple miles up ahead,” I suggested. “Maybe we could get a couple of shovels there.”

I saw looks of apprehension on the others’ faces. They didn’t want to stray too far from the Interstate.

“We could always stop a little further on,” Rosenberg said.

“No, let’s get this over and done with,” Batfish said. “We don’t know what we might face the closer we get to the city. We may not be able to stop much further on.”

“She’s got a point,” Smith said. “TheI-78 takes us right through Jersey City and through Holland Tunnel. We may not be able to get to the City by road. Think about how blocked that tunnel could be.”

Smith was right. Just getting to the heart of New York City was going to be difficult enough.

“Okay, shall we go and have a look at the campsite?”

The others reluctantly agreed with my suggestion. We hopped back in the van with me still driving. I found it a good way to keep my mind occupied. Julia hadn’t said a word since we left the garage and I was starting to worry about her mental state. Smith, Rosenberg and Eazy made light conversation as we traveled.

A sign showing the route to the campsite said we were two miles away. I realized I was putting off the inevitable. I didn’t really want to go to the City. I was trying to find excuses to hole up somewhere. Maybe the campsite would be free of undead and we could barricade ourselves in somewhere.

Hidden Valley Campsite was a huge, sprawling grass and wooded park with a long winding lane leading to some static caravans and parked up RVs. I nosed the VW under the welcome entrance sign which proclaimed “The Best Summer Vacation.” Somehow I had my doubts whether it would be a pleasurable experience visiting the park.

The campsite seemed deserted. It reminded me of one of those Midwest ghost towns I’d seen on TV. I drove the VW slowly through the center lane between the static homes and RVs parked in neat rows on the allocated plots. Laundry flapped in the breeze pegged to washing lines between the vehicles. An empty kid’s playground stood to our left with swings moving gently back and forth in the breeze.

The place seemed eerie and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck bristling. I didn’t say anything to the others. Julia was scared out of her wits already; Batfish was trying to come to terms with her friend’s death and Rosenberg was blocking everything out of his mind by keeping himself busy tending to Smith and Eazy’s wounds.

I followed the route to the center of the park where the general store and main facilities were located. I kept the VW at a slow speed due to the traffic humps but my foot hovered over the gas pedal ready to make a quick getaway.

The Pavilion Square was the hubbub of the campsite. A convenience store, fast food outlet, the pavilion clubhouse and a games arcade formed a rectangle shape around a central fountain on a cobbled area. The glass fronted pavilion stood directly in front of us. The doors were closed and the interior was dark. The arcade door was open but the stores were all closed and dark inside.

I circled around the fountain and stopped outside the convenience store.

“It looks all quiet,” I said. “Do you think they got shovels in that store?”

“Let’s go take a look,” Smith said, sliding back the camper door.

I cut the engine and jumped out the cab to follow Smith. I thought the others may stay in the VW but they all got out and followed us. Nobody wanted to be left alone, I guessed.

Smith leaned against the glass paneled door of the convenience store. He peered inside trying to get a look and tried the door handle. The door didn’t budge. Smith drew his baseball bat from the rifle sling on his back and swung back. He winced in pain and put a hand to his shoulder.

“Do the honors, Wilde man,” he said, tossing me the bat.

I took hold of the bat and swung it like a pro at the top window pane. The glass cracked on the first swing and finally gave way, tinkled and crumpled on the second swing. A bleeping alarm sounded inside the store.

“Nice one,” Smith nodded.

I took out the bottom glass panel in the same sequence and handed Smith back his bat. I crawled through the bottom panel space and looked around the store. The place was narrow with small selections of canned food, candy and bags of charcoal arranged around the service counter. I winced when a gunshot sounded behind me. I twisted and saw Smith leaning into the store through the empty top glass pane, with his Desert Eagle drawn.

“That alarm was giving our position away,” he said.

I noticed the alarm was silenced when my ears stopped ringing. A white plastic box was fixed on the wall behind the service counter, with a smoking round hole in the middle.

“Any cold beers in there?” Smith called.

I looked around and found a fridge stacked with soda and cans of beer. The power was off in the fridge but the contents were still cold. I took out two cans of MGD and tossed one to Smith. He caught his and stood in the doorway supping down the beer. I opened mine and took a long gulp. It tasted like liquid nectar relieving my dry throat.

Smith crawled into the store and joined me inside. He took another beer as the first one didn’t seem to touch the sides of his throat.

“Let’s take a look around,” he said, moving through the store.

“What are the others doing?” I asked, looking back towards the door.

“They wanted to get into the pavilion to see if there’s anything to eat,” Smith replied. “Eazy said he could break into the place, no problem.”

I felt glad Smith and I were alone again. The others were becoming a burden we could do without. I thought Smith and I had a chance of making it to the harbor by Battery Park.

“Go on, ask me,” Smith said, sipping his beer.

“Ask you what?”

“You’re desperate to ask me why we went to that garage, aren’t you.”

I shook my head. “We went to gas up and you had an ulterior motive to collect cash from Wes, or whatever his name was.”

“It’s not my fault she’s dead,” Smith mumbled.

I sensed a pang of guilt in his voice. “No one thinks that, Smith. No one knew we were going to run into those fucking assholes back there.” I turned to look at Smith in the eye. “None of us would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. You got us out of there. And I don’t think I’d have made it out of Brynston if it wasn’t for you.”

“Ah, shut up, Wilde man. You’ll have me in tears, in a minute,” Smith gave me a shove in the shoulder.

We stood in silence for a moment, sipping beer in the gloomy store.

“Nah, that’s bullshit,” Smith said, flinging his empty can on the floor. “I got that cash because we may need it on the way. I knew that old bastard had some hidden stash. He was supposed to pay up for his last vehicle delivery and he didn’t. It was my second job after paying your friend a visit. He either paid up or I’d take him out.”

We walked towards a rack of tools to the right of the store.

“That cash may get us to the harbor.”

“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure where Smith was going with this.

“Well, the world’s gone to hell but the human race will still be greedy. Money probably won’t mean shit in the near future but people won’t realize that. A few handfuls of the green stuff will still buy you commodities in New York City.”

“Okay, if you say so,” I thought Smith was talking gibberish. Maybe the beer and painkillers Rosenberg gave him had caused an affect.

Smith turned on his pen torch and we searched through the tools for some shovels. We found some small, narrow ones and took three off the rack. Smith took a candy bar off the shelf as we walked back past the service counter. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten anything so I took a piece of pie, displayed in a cabinet next to the counter. We stopped by the fridge and took out two more beers. We lit up a cigarette each and stood inside the store sipping beer. Somehow, it was relaxing just to be away from everything, even if it was only for a couple of minutes.

We soon dropped our beer cans and rushed from the store when we heard screams and gunshots from outside.

Chapter Twenty-One

Smith and I rushed towards the convenience store door. The bright sun light temporarily blinded me as we ducked through the bottom glassless panel. Smith already had his gun drawn and I followed suit when my vision cleared.

Eazy aimed his pistol at two zombies approaching him. Julia, Batfish and Rosenberg stood cowering behind Eazy, near the open pavilion door. Two zombies lay motionless on the ground by the camper side door but I saw one moving around inside and more approached into the square.

“Shit, we’ve got to get out of here, quickly,” Smith hissed. “You got those shovels?”

I realized we’d left them leaning against the fridge inside the store. Smith climbed into the camper and grabbed the zombie inside. He dragged the hissing female zombie out by the hair and hurled her to the ground. The zombie’s head cracked on the cobble stones and she tried to get to her feet. Smith fired two bullets into the head, dispatching the zombie’s brains over the cobble stones.

“Get the fucking shovels,” he screamed at me.

I ducked back into the store and retrieved the three shovels next to the fridge. I knocked over the contents of the display shelves in my haste to get back outside.

Julia screamed as the two zombies approached them. Eazy had problems with his hand gun.

“Smith, man, I’m out of ammo,” he called.

Smith had a mean look on his face as he marched up behind the two zombies’ and fired a bullet behind each one’s ear. They both bent at the knees and fell like crumpled sacks.

I threw the shovels in the back of the camper and saw why Smith looked so pissed off. The zombies had uncovered Donna’s body and ripped open her stomach and gnawed on her calf and thigh. Blood and guts covered the interior of the van. Our baggage and belongings were covered in human remains. I gagged and felt the beer attempting to resurface.

Smith and the others approached the camper. I looked straight ahead and saw at least twenty zombies lurching into the square. I quickly threw one of the blood soaked blankets over Donna and covered her up the best I could.

“Batfish, Julia, you get in the front seat and don’t look around, okay?” Smith barked.

I went to get into the driver’s seat but Smith shoved me aside. He jumped in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. Julia and Batfish slid in the passenger side. I crawled in the back after Rosenberg and Eazy.

“I’m sick and tired of these rotten motherfuckers,” Smith bellowed, reloading his clip. He wound down the window and took out two of the nearest zombies with clean head shots.

Eazy fumbled through the blood and found his extra ammo clips. He reloaded and his facial expression showed he was revolted at the state of the camper interior.

Smith drove the camper forward at speed. He purposely bumped a few zombies with the edge of the wind shield pillars and fired off a few more shots through his side window.