Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) (12 page)

"What's the story?" I asked.

"It's relatively clear. A few roamers, but
nothing we can't handle," Jake reported. "Someone up there is
looking out for us; it's a gravity system."

"Which means?"

Vinny rolled his eyes at me, "Which means it
doesn't need electricity. We don't have to jump through any hoops
or MacGyver anything. Just grab the nozzle, stick it into the
container, and pump. Gravity does the rest."

"So why do you look annoyed?"

"Because if we bring the truck to the tank,
it will make too much noise and draw them in like bees to
honey."

"Which means?" I prodded.

"We have to fill gas cans and carry them back
to the truck. The tank holds twenty-eight gallons. I found six
five-gallon gas containers in the shop. If we make three trips, we
can fill the tank and also have another full tanks worth of gas to
pack for the trip."

"Sounds like a plan," I said, not entirely
convinced it was a good one.

Vinny left his spot at the window, where he'd
been diligently watching to make sure nothing followed them back.
"If we're gonna do this, let's get everything else loaded first.
That way if the shit goes sideways we can make a quick
getaway."

We packed, unpacked, and repacked the car
with anything of value. Our major find was a stockpile of hand
sanitizer and wet-naps. The wet-naps confused me a little, but Meg
suggested they were for the service guys. We emptied the small rack
of Nissan apparel, which was unfortunately limited to shirts, and
each took a turn in the office giving ourselves a wet-nap bath. I
decided I was going to miss the ability to have a real shower the
most. We'd been spoiled with the houseboat.

I put Daphne in the truck, and she curled up
on the leather captain's seat and eyed us warily while we loaded
everything into the truck. She was probably still annoyed about
being locked away in the dark office that morning. I repacked our
bug-out bags with Nissan shirts, vending machine food, and a hearty
supply of wet-naps. Our bags were our lifeline, and I placed them
next to our respective seats for easy access.

Against my longtime claim of shotgun, I put
Vinny's bag up front and mine in back. I figured he was a much
better shot and it would be wise to keep him in an effective
position. We left room in the cargo area for the extra gas tanks
and whatever food we could pilfer along the way. We had a limited
supply of vending machine food and sodas, plus eight waters, to get
us through the next few days.

I grabbed Jake and pulled him aside before
they left on their first run for fuel. "Be safe out there," I told
him. "I can't lose you. You're too important."

He looked down at me, searching my eyes.
"Everything will be okay. I'll be back before you can even miss
me."

"I miss you already," I said, and looped my
arms around his shoulders, rose up on my tiptoes and kissed
him.

He kissed me back with such passion that my
knees wobbled, and when he pulled away, I nearly crumpled to the
floor. "I love you, Emma."

With one final little peck on the lips, he
turned and left the showroom with his brother. Meg and I pulled a
couple chairs from the cubicles and sat next to the truck. I
couldn't get behind calling the Armada an SUV. It was way too
massive.

Meg sighed loudly, one of those sighs that
wasn't just meant for breathing, but indicated there was something
on her mind. I don't know how much longer I can do this," she
confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"The constant state of panic, never having a
sense of safety, always on the run. It's overwhelming. My heart is
always racing, and I don't know. Whatever."

I sympathized with her. Regardless of the
time on the boat, and the month on Sanibel, I felt the same way.
"You know," I said, "we have to keep it together. I still have
hope. I have to, because if I lose that hope, I'll stop trying. If
I stop trying, Jake will too. I can't go through it again, Meg.
Thinking he was dead almost broke me."

"So, what do you think it's like everywhere
else?" She changed the subject, noticing me about to spiral into an
abyss.

"I don't know," I said, a curios lilt to my
voice. "Based on the little information we got from other survivor
camps when we were on the island, it sounds like the power is still
on nearly everywhere else."

"Do you think the storm is the reason we lost
power?"

"Yeah, actually, I think when it went out
during the hurricane that there were no crews sent out to restore
the grid. At least that's what I hope."

We'd spoken with a camp just north of
Bradenton and they still had power. Shortly after we arrived on
Sanibel, we lost contact with them, and Seth told us it had been
happening a lot. There was a big map of Florida pinned to the wall
in the building the officers occupied. Colored tacks marked various
locations of other survivor camps. Green meant they were still
responsive, and red meant they'd gone dark and were presumed
overrun. The Bradenton green tack had been replaced by a red
one.

Jake and Vinny returned with the first load
of fuel. I began pouring the precious liquid into the Armada's tank
and ordered them to sit and relax while I transferred it. Daphne
jumped up onto Jake's lap and nudged his hand with her nose,
sneezing when she got a whiff of his gas-stained hands.

"How did it go?" I asked, not looking up from
my task.

Vinny answered, "Only a few noticed us. We
took them out so it would be clear for the next trip."

A few minutes later, they left for their
second run, and my anxiety shot up to a ten again, as it did each
time Jake left my line of sight. This time, Meg and I sat in
silence waiting for them to return. When they did, Meg took over
the task of transferring the gas. The boys looked a little worse
for wear and eyed each other conspiratorially.

"Spill it," I insisted, standing with my
hands on my hips to punctuate my authoritative demand.

They exchanged glances again, having one of
those silent conversations that were starting to grate on my
nerves.

Jake answered me. "Let's just say we got a
lot more attention that time."

"We have a full tank, plus another twelve
gallons. Let's just go," I said.

He looked dejected. "We can't. We need every
drop we can get. Without knowing what condition the roads will be
in, there's no telling how far a tank will get us. We'll be okay.
We cleared the close ones."

"I'll come with you this time," I offered. "I
can pump while you two play defense."

"No," he snapped at me. "And it's not up for
discussion. So just drop it."

I flinched at his tone and looked away,
trying to decide if I wanted to cry or throat punch him for barking
at me. Meg and Vinny just looked between us, not wanting to get in
the middle of whatever weird domestic spat we were about to have.
For the sake of the group and Jake's balls—which I currently wanted
to kick—I said nothing to him.

"Asshole!" I muttered under my breath as he
walked away.

"Seriously," agreed Meg. Her validation of
his being a dick actually helped lessen the rage I was feeling, and
it dissipated altogether when we started giggling like
schoolgirls.

This time, when they came back, they looked
haggard. Vinny had blood splatter on his clothes and face, and his
hands were covered in the dark, sticky, stuff. They only carried
three plastic containers with them.

"Load it. We need to go, now," said Jake, the
veins in his neck and forehead bulging.

"Do we even want to know?" I asked.

"No, but you'll find out if we don't get
moving."

We closed the cargo door and got into the
truck. I rummaged in my bag and handed Vinny a pack of wipes. He
immediately went to work, scrubbing his hands clean of the goop and
inspecting his fingers for open wounds. Finding none, he reopened
the door and dropped the handful of dirty wipes to the ground.

Jake pressed the ignition button and the
engine roared. I mean, really roared. I don't know if it was
because we were inside the showroom or if it was normal, but this
truck was loud. The sound startled us, and Vinny laughed.

"I love the sound of a V8," he said, curling
his fists together with anticipation.

"Ah," I said, understanding that V8 was a
type of engine. The only thing I knew about them was that they gave
a car more power and sounded like a diesel with the low
grumbling.

"Time to go," said Jake, looking through the
rearview mirror and putting the gear shift in drive.

I turned to see what he was looking at and
immediately wished I hadn't. The hall connecting the service area
to the showroom was packed with zombies, and they were headed
straight toward us.

Jake's foot punched the gas and I was
flattened to my seat. The tires squealed on the linoleum, and I
covered my face with my hands as we sped toward the huge
plate-glass window. We shot through it, shattering the glass, and
the truck suspended in air for a split second before the front
tires met the sidewalk and we were jostled around from the bumpy
exit. The momentum abruptly changed directions as the tail end
landed and we bounced off the sidewalk and onto the flat pavement
of the lot. Our bodies were thrown forward as Jake's foot slammed
on the brake pedal and Meg and I found ourselves kissing the
carpet.

"Seat-belts would probably be a good idea,"
she noted, and we helped each other up and back into our seats. I
grabbed Daphne, who had rolled under the driver's seat, and put her
back on my lap.

What looked like a never-ending horde of
undead tumbled out of the broken window behind us. My husband hit
the gas pedal again, and we started on the access road that ran
parallel to 41.

Chapter 08: Are We There
Yet?

Vinny was snickering in the front seat. "I've been
dying to do that since I saw it in a movie. It looked awesome."

"I'm glad you got to live out your idiotic
fantasy," quipped Meg, kicking the back of his seat and making him
bounce forward.

"Hey!" He bellowed. "Cut the shit!"

Jake smiled, evidently getting a kick out of
his siblings squabbling with each other. "Settle down, kids. Meg,
stop kicking your brother. Don't make me turn this car around," he
threatened, mocking every parent to ever take a road trip with
their family. "I'll do it!"

"Are we there yet?" I joined in.

"No."

"How about now? Are we there yet?"

"Daaaaaaaaaad," whined Meg. "I have to
pee."

"Then you should have gone before we left the
house."

We continued on like that for a while. Daphne
sat quietly on my lap, turning her head to each person as they
spoke like she was a spectator at a tennis match.

"Keep your eyes open for someplace to stop
and pickup supplies," Jake instructed us.

The access road ended after two miles, and we
were forced to use the sidewalk and parking lots of the various
strip malls that had popped up a few years back. We passed a Dunkin
Donuts and my mouth watered just thinking of a hazelnut iced coffee
with extra cream and a box of munchkins.

We pulled up to every convenience store we
came across. Each had busted front windows and looked like they'd
been looted already. I was torn over how I felt about the
discovery. On one hand I was disappointed that the goods had
already been taken, but on the other hand I was excited at the
thought that others had survived.

Turning off onto Colonial Boulevard, we
headed east to connect with 75. The highway spanned the entire
length of Florida and north into Georgia and beyond. Colonial was
bumper to bumper, much like 41, but the sidewalk was clear and we
had a straight shot to the highway without having to worry about
obstructions.

Our luck ran out when we hit the on-ramp. A
compact car was blocking the median.

"Dammit," snapped Jake.

"It looks clear other than that one, bro.
Should we try ramming it?" Vinny asked.

"No," Jake replied, "I don't want to risk
it."

"Think if we stick it in neutral we can push
it out of the way? It looks like there's enough space to get it out
of the median, and with the steep incline it should roll
easily."

I watched their exchange, stunned by the
suggestion.

"Didn't you learn anything from Meg's
near-death experience?" I asked. "Jesus, it's like watching Jim
Carrey and Jeff Daniels. I don't know which one of you is dumb and
which is dumber."

"We're out of options, babe. This is it."

"Okay, you're obviously dumber."

"Emma," said Jake, his tone implying he was
all business, "get in the driver's seat. As soon as we're clear,
pick us up. I'm guessing things may get hairy. Meg, keep your eyes
peeled and your safety off."

"God, I hate this shit," I complained to Meg
as I watched the Rossi men approach the tangled mess of cars,
methodically checking inside windows and undercarriages for
zombies.

They reached the small car that blocked our
path and climbed over the hood. I inched the truck forward, trying
to pay attention to anything approaching the driver's side of the
car and also any indication the boys were in trouble. Jake opened
the door, smart enough to check the backseat for lurkers, and
whatever he did inside worked, because Vinny didn't even start
pushing before the tires started to roll backwards. Once they both
put their backs into it, the car built up some speed and fell into
line with a crunch as the rear bumper impacted with the headlights
of another car.

I'd forgotten to pay attention to the cars on
my left, and when Daphne started to bark, I turned in my seat to
find her standing on her hind legs, front paws on the ledge of the
window and the snarling face of a female zombie staring back at
her.