Read Online Heartland Junk Part I: The End: A ZOMBIE Apocalypse Serial by Eli Nixon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eli Nixon
Tags: Action & Adventure, Horror, Action, Zombie, Zombies, apocalypse, Action Suspense, horror action zombie, horror about apocalypse
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landed in the bed of the truck. Rusty springs squealed
as the truck shrank under my weight. I slipped in the thick
covering of dust, but I caught myself and reached the back of the
cab.
On these older
Fords, there's a sliding window in the rear windscreen. They've got
little plastic latches that lock in place when you slide the window
all the way shut.
This window wasn't
all the way shut.
I dropped my pack
and the duffel and the axe into the bed and, worked my fingers into
the narrow opening, slid the window all the way open, then wormed
through headfirst. The small cab was hot and stuffy from sitting in
the sun, but I was in. My cheek pressed into the hot vinyl seat
cushion, then slid across it as I pulled my legs through the
window. My head left the cushion and thumped the floorboard; my
foot kicked the ceiling.
"Like a swan!"
Rivet cheered. "Way to go, Rayman. Open, open, open."
I reached over and
pulled the inside door handle, disengaging the lock. While Jennie
gently placed her pack into the bed beside mine, Rivet hauled me
right-side up, and then we were all in the cab and Jennie slammed
the door shut and locked it.
The gunshot echo
of the door died in the stuffy air faster than a dream, leaving us
in breathless silence. I scanned the street, the yard, the
neighbors' yards, the intersection, the road beyond.
"Not a single
fucking zombie!" Rivet exclaimed. "Come on!"
Jennie laughed,
the sound loud and genuine. I looked at her and caught the bug. For
the first time today, she looked happy. The chuckle caught in my
throat at first, as if unsure of its destination, then burst free
all the louder because of it. My laugh spurred Jennie into
hysterics, and I joined her. We were way too fucking high for
this.
Rivet made a show of being nonplussed, but Jennie threw her
arms around him, giggling, and he finally cracked a smile. I
realized he still had his bulging pack on his lap and, Jesus,
the shovel! Sticking straight up between his knobby legs in the tiny cab.
I lost it again.
"Har har." Rivet
calmed down first, like usual. Jennie and I finally tapered off,
Jennie wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
"Sorry," Jennie said, smiling. "I guess I just expected...I
don't know. More zombies. After all that. I mean, it was intense ,
guys. Running all the way to the car. I was scared." She raised her
hand as if she were voting as a member the "scared"
group.
"Me too," I said.
"I had this idea that they were all around us. When that key
broke," I laughed again, "I thought we were goners."
"Speaking of
keys...," Rivet prodded.
After two tries, a
key slid smoothly into the ignition and turned. The engine coughed
to life. The gas gauge read half full; a minor miracle, since I
don't think Janet had driven this truck in months.
"Onward?" I
glanced at Rivet.
"And upward," he
said, peering straight ahead through the goggles.
A left on
Bloomingdale and then a right on River Street had us motoring along
the back way to downtown Joshuah Hill, three and a half miles
away.
As we passed Mrs.
Winters's house, I swear I saw her pull aside a curtain and wave.
She looked just fine.
Chapter 9
THERE WASN'T a
single car on the two-lane highway until we were nearly to
Carrborough Street, but near the point the sparse homesteads grew
more dense and transitioned into regular houses, we saw a white
Cadillac SUV on its side in the ditch on the right side of the
road. Jennie was the first to spot it. She sucked in a breath and
held her hand over her open mouth. The undercarriage was facing the
road, facing us, and the two top tires were spinning slowly, as if
the accident had just happened. There was nobody in sight, but I
slowed anyway as we approached.
"Should we stop?"
I asked. I brought the truck to a crawl. The Cadillac was directly
beside us now. Exhaust rolled in ghostly plumes from the tailpipe.
The engine was still running.
"No," said Rivet
with finality.
"What if someone
needs help?" Jennie argued. "They could be
as the truck shrank under my weight. I slipped in the thick
covering of dust, but I caught myself and reached the back of the
cab.
On these older
Fords, there's a sliding window in the rear windscreen. They've got
little plastic latches that lock in place when you slide the window
all the way shut.
This window wasn't
all the way shut.
I dropped my pack
and the duffel and the axe into the bed and, worked my fingers into
the narrow opening, slid the window all the way open, then wormed
through headfirst. The small cab was hot and stuffy from sitting in
the sun, but I was in. My cheek pressed into the hot vinyl seat
cushion, then slid across it as I pulled my legs through the
window. My head left the cushion and thumped the floorboard; my
foot kicked the ceiling.
"Like a swan!"
Rivet cheered. "Way to go, Rayman. Open, open, open."
I reached over and
pulled the inside door handle, disengaging the lock. While Jennie
gently placed her pack into the bed beside mine, Rivet hauled me
right-side up, and then we were all in the cab and Jennie slammed
the door shut and locked it.
The gunshot echo
of the door died in the stuffy air faster than a dream, leaving us
in breathless silence. I scanned the street, the yard, the
neighbors' yards, the intersection, the road beyond.
"Not a single
fucking zombie!" Rivet exclaimed. "Come on!"
Jennie laughed,
the sound loud and genuine. I looked at her and caught the bug. For
the first time today, she looked happy. The chuckle caught in my
throat at first, as if unsure of its destination, then burst free
all the louder because of it. My laugh spurred Jennie into
hysterics, and I joined her. We were way too fucking high for
this.
Rivet made a show of being nonplussed, but Jennie threw her
arms around him, giggling, and he finally cracked a smile. I
realized he still had his bulging pack on his lap and, Jesus,
the shovel! Sticking straight up between his knobby legs in the tiny cab.
I lost it again.
"Har har." Rivet
calmed down first, like usual. Jennie and I finally tapered off,
Jennie wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
"Sorry," Jennie said, smiling. "I guess I just expected...I
don't know. More zombies. After all that. I mean, it was intense ,
guys. Running all the way to the car. I was scared." She raised her
hand as if she were voting as a member the "scared"
group.
"Me too," I said.
"I had this idea that they were all around us. When that key
broke," I laughed again, "I thought we were goners."
"Speaking of
keys...," Rivet prodded.
After two tries, a
key slid smoothly into the ignition and turned. The engine coughed
to life. The gas gauge read half full; a minor miracle, since I
don't think Janet had driven this truck in months.
"Onward?" I
glanced at Rivet.
"And upward," he
said, peering straight ahead through the goggles.
A left on
Bloomingdale and then a right on River Street had us motoring along
the back way to downtown Joshuah Hill, three and a half miles
away.
As we passed Mrs.
Winters's house, I swear I saw her pull aside a curtain and wave.
She looked just fine.
Chapter 9
THERE WASN'T a
single car on the two-lane highway until we were nearly to
Carrborough Street, but near the point the sparse homesteads grew
more dense and transitioned into regular houses, we saw a white
Cadillac SUV on its side in the ditch on the right side of the
road. Jennie was the first to spot it. She sucked in a breath and
held her hand over her open mouth. The undercarriage was facing the
road, facing us, and the two top tires were spinning slowly, as if
the accident had just happened. There was nobody in sight, but I
slowed anyway as we approached.
"Should we stop?"
I asked. I brought the truck to a crawl. The Cadillac was directly
beside us now. Exhaust rolled in ghostly plumes from the tailpipe.
The engine was still running.
"No," said Rivet
with finality.
"What if someone
needs help?" Jennie argued. "They could be
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