“I’m going to check it out. Grant, you look in here for keys.”
He stood and peered around at the trashed living room, “We won’t find keys in here. The place has been tossed already. The car’s probably shit, or they would have taken it.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe the looters drove it here and traded it for something better. Check the place anyway. We don’t have any supplies since you left the backpack in the woods.”
I tried to inject as much disgust as I could into that last sentence. I opened the front door of the house, looked around for any close zombies, and ran out to the car–a white, late 1980s Ford Tempo. Grant was right; it was shit. There was so much dried gore in the back seat that it looked like a big scab. There was a body back there that had almost completely decomposed. It smelled plenty bad. Ordinarily, I would have looked for other options, but this was perfect. The keys were in it. I climbed in and started it. It had a half tank of gas.
I revved the engine, and Grant stepped out on the porch. I waved for them to come. When they both exited the house, I rolled down my window, “I’m driving, and Sara will need to sit up front with me.”
He hurriedly escorted her to the passenger door and helped her in. After he shut her door, she laid her head on her window and closed her eyes. She didn’t act like she was bothered by the smell. Then Grant opened the rear door and balked.
“Dude, what the fuck?” he said.
“Just shove it over to the side, bro,” I said, grinning. “Come on. We need to go.”
“I am not riding in there,” he said.
“Then shut the door,” I said. “Sara and I are going to the lake with or without you. You can go back through the woods and wait at the stables until we get back. You need to make up your mind, because they’re getting close.”
“This is not cool,” he said, and he pushed on the skull of the corpse. It was stuck to the seat. Finally the head popped loose and fell to the floorboard. A clump of hair came off in his hands. He gave the scapulae one hard shove with both hands, and the other bones collapsed against each other somewhat like an accordion. There was still enough sinew to keep most of the bones connected together, so he had to sort of fold it in half. “Not cool, bro.”
CHAPTER 10
I didn’t make him sit back there the whole trip. We exchanged the scabby Tempo for a new minivan fifteen minutes in. The van was slow to start and sputtered a little at first. I was having that experience more often with vehicles. I figured the gasoline was starting to go bad, but I didn’t know for sure. Maybe all these cars didn’t like sitting idle for so long. They needed someone to crank them and “blow the soot out” as they say.
There was an mp3 player plugged into the van’s stereo. We thought we’d get to listen to some music for the rest of the trip, but the player was loaded with lectures from motivational speakers and a couple of sermons by that preacher from that super church. Even though it wasn’t music, I played them anyway, because it made me feel a little like I was normal again.
-Anything was possible if we believed.
-The Universe was matching our vibrations and sending us what we wanted.
-We could make a fortune every month if we followed our dreams.
-God just wanted to make us smile.
These were the things we heard. I wanted to believe every word. I wanted it all to be true, but outside the air-conditioned interior of that van, there weren’t many smiles or good vibrations. I looked in the mirror at Grant. He didn’t notice me. He was frowning out his window, and I thought I saw a tear running down his cheek. It might have been because of Sara or it might have been over the disconnect between the words he heard and the reality he knew; it might have been sweat. I turned up the air conditioning. Sara slept the whole time, and I let her.
We arrived at the cabin around noon. No one came out to greet us.
He stood and peered around at the trashed living room, “We won’t find keys in here. The place has been tossed already. The car’s probably shit, or they would have taken it.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe the looters drove it here and traded it for something better. Check the place anyway. We don’t have any supplies since you left the backpack in the woods.”
I tried to inject as much disgust as I could into that last sentence. I opened the front door of the house, looked around for any close zombies, and ran out to the car–a white, late 1980s Ford Tempo. Grant was right; it was shit. There was so much dried gore in the back seat that it looked like a big scab. There was a body back there that had almost completely decomposed. It smelled plenty bad. Ordinarily, I would have looked for other options, but this was perfect. The keys were in it. I climbed in and started it. It had a half tank of gas.
I revved the engine, and Grant stepped out on the porch. I waved for them to come. When they both exited the house, I rolled down my window, “I’m driving, and Sara will need to sit up front with me.”
He hurriedly escorted her to the passenger door and helped her in. After he shut her door, she laid her head on her window and closed her eyes. She didn’t act like she was bothered by the smell. Then Grant opened the rear door and balked.
“Dude, what the fuck?” he said.
“Just shove it over to the side, bro,” I said, grinning. “Come on. We need to go.”
“I am not riding in there,” he said.
“Then shut the door,” I said. “Sara and I are going to the lake with or without you. You can go back through the woods and wait at the stables until we get back. You need to make up your mind, because they’re getting close.”
“This is not cool,” he said, and he pushed on the skull of the corpse. It was stuck to the seat. Finally the head popped loose and fell to the floorboard. A clump of hair came off in his hands. He gave the scapulae one hard shove with both hands, and the other bones collapsed against each other somewhat like an accordion. There was still enough sinew to keep most of the bones connected together, so he had to sort of fold it in half. “Not cool, bro.”
CHAPTER 10
I didn’t make him sit back there the whole trip. We exchanged the scabby Tempo for a new minivan fifteen minutes in. The van was slow to start and sputtered a little at first. I was having that experience more often with vehicles. I figured the gasoline was starting to go bad, but I didn’t know for sure. Maybe all these cars didn’t like sitting idle for so long. They needed someone to crank them and “blow the soot out” as they say.
There was an mp3 player plugged into the van’s stereo. We thought we’d get to listen to some music for the rest of the trip, but the player was loaded with lectures from motivational speakers and a couple of sermons by that preacher from that super church. Even though it wasn’t music, I played them anyway, because it made me feel a little like I was normal again.
-Anything was possible if we believed.
-The Universe was matching our vibrations and sending us what we wanted.
-We could make a fortune every month if we followed our dreams.
-God just wanted to make us smile.
These were the things we heard. I wanted to believe every word. I wanted it all to be true, but outside the air-conditioned interior of that van, there weren’t many smiles or good vibrations. I looked in the mirror at Grant. He didn’t notice me. He was frowning out his window, and I thought I saw a tear running down his cheek. It might have been because of Sara or it might have been over the disconnect between the words he heard and the reality he knew; it might have been sweat. I turned up the air conditioning. Sara slept the whole time, and I let her.
We arrived at the cabin around noon. No one came out to greet us.
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