Falling Apart (Barely Alive #2) (21 page)

I flipped on the stereo, not sure what he expected to hear. How many survivors would choose to spend their time transmitting music? Not many. “Go ahead and find a channel. I need to drive. This truck is bigger than it looks.” He could find a station, if there were any even working. The electricity was out, but I had no idea how bad Boise had been hit with the virus. Vegas had become ground zero, where the zombies had stolen control of the normal citizens.

He fiddled with the buttons, but only static responded to his hand.

Brian had found a human to eat, and fairly fast. Were there more people out there than zombies? He ignored me and my constant questions running rampant through my mind. Glad someone could. I couldn’t get away from them. Especially the one where I’m wondering how Heather could leave me hanging like she had. Didn’t she miss me? I’d been more wrapped up in asking her about her feelings when I should have asked how far they had gotten.

I slammed my hand on the wheel. Son of a bitch, I was an idiot.

Hand held out toward me, Brian spoke in a slow cadence. “Take it easy. Heather isn’t always open with her feelings.” His confusion sharpened with a clearer, sharper edge. He seemed to have more of his mental processes under control. 

I ignored his comment, but allowed it to reassure me – if only for a second. 

The roads were black, appearing even blacker from within the lit up cab of the truck. The headlights didn’t do much to push through the inky darkness. I followed the red lights, gleaming like cat eyes in the dark. A caravan carried an army that wanted flesh for no other reason than to eat it.  With a sadistic sociopath controlling them, the army would be the worst the world had ever seen. 

The lights slowed. We hadn’t driven more than a few blocks. They stopped and I pulled up behind them.

“Why are we stopping?” Brian leaned forward, peering into the darkness around the fish truck we’d been following.

I shrugged and studied the area around our truck. Nothing penetrated the blackness. I wiped at my eyes.  The lights blurred and refocused. I needed more meat. I was burning through it faster than Dominic and his boys. Brian hadn’t eaten much of the man we’d consumed back on the ground. If Dominic was right, I might have done more damage eating animal than I’d thought.

Slam! A gray hand pounded my window. Another clutched at the windshield wipers. Brian’s startled scream trailed off. I won’t lie – I jumped like a scared little bitch. But I didn’t scream. Just sayin’.

The people surrounding the trucks lurched and stumbled. There were tens upon tens, maybe even into the hundreds. I looked closer at the ones crossing my lights. Blood soaked clothing hung in tatters from graying bodies in the shadows. They hadn’t had enough to eat as nearly one-hundred-percent of their skin was colored gray.

I jerked back in my seat as the one clinging to my door jiggled the handle. Had I locked it? I fumbled with the lock. “Lock your door!” I screamed over my shoulder at Brian. He slapped his hand down on the lock.

Over the radio, Dominic yelled, “Lock your doors, you stupid shits! Lock them!”

The fish truck drivers hadn’t been fast enough. A street lurcher grabbed the driver and yanked him from his seat. A multitude swarmed the two and the driver disappeared under the graying bodies. They carried into him into the dark.

My hands shook and my stomach twisted. So we could eat each other. I’d always assumed Dominic had meant we couldn’t when he talked about the kids in the dungeon. But when we were hungry enough, apparently we didn’t care.

I cared.
Oh, hell, I cared.
“Hang on.” I pressed the gas. I wasn’t taking this in the cab.

Brian shoved his hands on the dash and straight-armed it. He squeezed his eyes shut. Wow, sometimes he partially impressed me with his level-headedness and then he pulled a pussy-ass move filled with cowardice and I would be blown away with his reactions. Dumb ass.

We started out slow, the mindless people bumping against the grill. But the truck picked up momentum and more than one body ended up a speed bump under the wheels. The front bumper clipped the rear corner of the truck before me. I pushed through.

Hell, I drove over numerous bumps. I ran over zombies left and right. They fell before me like dominoes. Just before I careened over them, I spotlighted their gruesome need in the blood-soaked clothing, damaged flesh, and mutilated wounds on their bodies. I should’ve reached a speed closer to thirty or forty, hell, fifty, but the truck hit bump after bump and I was lucky to get up to fifteen. Fast enough to keep moving, slow enough to tease the zombies trying to get at us. Grossed out at the moving carnage, I let up on the gas. I couldn’t help it. The zombies had once been people, too. They were like me.

Each bump was a zombie after another zombie. Hundreds? Shit, no, I swear all of Boise and then some had shown up for our departure.

I ignored the ache in my chest over Heather. Maybe my heart had grayed.

“How do we get out of here?” I gripped the steering wheel like my life depended on it. The line of trucks stretched along the road. Not one moved. But each one shook and jostled and as I passed them, shadows of people climbing on and around them grew and then shrank as the light passed. Cockroaches feeding off whatever flesh they could find.

More zombies fell under my wheels. I’d never seen so many people – dead or alive. Like the gates of hell had unleashed in Boise, Idaho. If I was the devil, I would’ve chosen a more glamorous place to do my uprising.

Over the radio, Dominic’s voice clashed with the grating of zombies clinging to my truck and the scraping as we drove over them. “Keep driving. Don’t stop. We have to protect the food.” The asshole must have packed the girls. Sick and more than a little eerie.

If the surrounding mob smelled them, Dominic’s truck wouldn’t make it far.

At the rate we were moving, we might not make it much further either.

About three hundred yards down the street, a truck lay overturned. The lights from the vehicle behind it lit up the scene like a cheap stage. Body parts hung from the hole ripped in its side and zombies struggled with the chilled corpses. They slowed in the chilly fog pumping from the hole in the truck until they returned to the warm summer night air when their movements spasmed with a palsy-like manic.

The gutted truck covered the street. On either side, a walkway separated the traffic from close-built storefronts. Fences around trees and streetlights guarded hydrants. Sign posts crowded garbage cans and newspaper bins.

Brian shifted in his seat. “I don’t know how to get out of here either. We need to get around that truck.” He pointed.

“No, shit.” I shook my head and flipped on the radio, pulling the mouth piece to me. Once more, Dominic and I had to work as one – against my instincts. I didn’t want him to know I was there. But hell, we were about to be eaten alive by some of his other creations. Dickhead could help us get out of the mess. I’d deal with the consequences of him finding out later – if we survived. “Dominic, this is Paul. There’s a truck up ahead blocking the way. If we don’t get past it, we have to stop and turn around.”

A crackle before his voice carried over the airwaves, his panic screeched and the hair on my arms stood up. “No! Don’t stop. There are only three trucks left. You’ll go under and I won’t be able to get by. Ram the back corner of the box and push forward. Don’t stop. It will turn the rig enough you can get by.” He beeped off. Only three trucks left – he must need my cargo pretty bad.

I glanced at Brian whose lip was curled in disgust. I didn’t care. My own disappointment overshadowed everything else. Surviving the next few days – until I got home – was my main goal. “I had to ask Dominic, Brian. We can’t do this alone.”

He shrugged, clinging to the handle and the armrest like he’d never get out of the truck alive. He didn’t look at me. “Am I supposed to care? We’re all dead anyway, right?”

One hundred yards down.

The phone rang.

I answered.

Heather’s voice took my breath away. “Paul, I’m sorry. Grandma Jean was calling on the other line.” She hiccupped.

Her sadness overcame me. “What? What happened?”

She sighed and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Paul. They don’t have a cure yet. They’re close, but having problems. Grandma Jean just said that to piss off Dominic. She didn’t know it would make him head that way. And she thought you were on his side. She just wanted…” Sobs filled the cab. But they weren’t mine or Brian’s.

Shock filled me. I understood – completely. I got it. There was no cure. Yet. They might get a breakthrough by that evening, or the next day, or the day after. Either way, it’d be too late. I wasn’t going to make it that far anyway. I couldn’t escape Dominic. Hell, at the rate I was going, I’m not sure I deserved another chance at humanity. But Dominic wouldn’t let me get away alive. 

At no one in particular, I nodded. No cure. My hope disappeared, replaced by belligerence. And fatigue. “Thanks, Heather.” My words were clipped. I didn’t want to talk anymore. So much wasted. Time. Energy. Feelings. Yuck. Guys don’t do lovey dovey shit. The virus had weakened me.  

“Paul! Don’t hang up. Not yet.” She sniffed. I tried to ignore the sting of longing her voice shoved under my skin. But I couldn’t. Too soon.

I sat there in silence, ignoring the hands beating at my window or the other guy in my truck I didn’t quite trust – waiting. Wishing. Hopeless. “What?”

“It was good news for
me
. Great news.” She trailed off. I closed my eyes but only briefly.

We were down another hundred yards. One hundred to go. Like my days left. Just a countdown to the end, to the inevitable.

Heather’s whisper carried to me like a yell. “I’m sorry.” I ingrained it on my heart.

“It’s not your fault, but thanks.” I cleared my throat. Never had it crossed my mind my heart might hurt more than the rest of me could ever burn. I dropped my voice to a whisper. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Then I hung up. I had no feeling in my extremities. Nothing because all my nerves had turned inward, burning now at the pain in my chest.

We’re all dead anyway.
“You know what, Brian? You’re right. We
are
all dead.” And I couldn’t help the smile spreading across my face. Truth time. I hadn’t accepted I was going to die. I’d faced the possibility. Cuddled the chance of a cure like a long lost friend that I couldn’t wait to see again, but I hadn’t faced its mythical existence.

The rear-view mirror taunted me. Angled down, it reflected my eyes.
Hello, Paul. Say goodbye.

I let the worry go. If I couldn’t be cured, I’d complete my other goal, my more important goal, and protect Heather even after I was gone. Which meant ditching Dominic with the ravenous zombies and getting my ass to Sandpoint before my body died. Once I got there, I could help out as long as I could.

No prob. I got that. “Hang on.” I chuckled. My humor had returned. Oh, yeah, this shit was going to be fun. I grinned at the zombies trying to get at me. One rammed into the side of the truck, like he wanted to overturn it. I tilted my head in a silent salute. Poor guy.

One hard slam onto the gas pedal and the engine responded like the zombies chased it for dinner. We shot forward, crunching and popping as we moved. Brian whimpered.

I rolled my eyes, but the grin never left my face. Sitting straight up, I gripped the wheel like a Nascar driver. In less than one hundred yards the truck reached forty. It wasn’t much, but I just needed to nudge the abandoned truck out of my way. Dominic could cope with the mess I’d leave behind.

I braced my other leg against the floor paneling and stiffened my spine. For the sheer fun of it, I honked the horn. And damn, my smile broadened.

The zombies fell by the wayside. We’d reached a high enough speed they didn’t reach out for us.

Every ounce of vengeance boiled inside me. I didn’t let up on the gas, even as only inches separated us from the invalid truck.

Our vehicle shook on impact. The jolt must have offended the engine. It shuddered and shook under the onslaught of pushing the weight of two large trucks. I didn’t let up on the pedal.

Brian screeched with the hit.

There was no damn good reason to keep his ass. I should have dumped him out the door and been on my way. And maybe I still would. But my euphoric mood depended on someone witnessing my carefree attitude. If I was all alone, I might drive into the horde of zombies and let them have me.

The truck spun enough to get out of my way and we lumbered on up the street. We were the only truck that had made it. A number of abandoned red taillights spotted the way out of town, shadows moving past each red dot.

“We need to get away from Dominic and his group.” Brian had relaxed some in the seat, but a line of sweat on his forehead shined in the dashboard lighting.

“There’s no other way north, right now.” Directions from the less-than-bright was not my idea of wise. “We’ll go as far as we can north behind them. I’ll try to pass when we get to a more open highway.”

We sank into silence, uncomfortable and strained but not hostile. I could handle non-hostile.

An explosion rocked the truck. We hadn’t made it more than twenty yards past the assaulted vehicle before the next truck had rammed what must have been the gas tanks.  Nothing else would make the swooshing-type of explosion that ballooned out to highlight the mass of zombies in the area.