understood
the impact of female infected having enough intelligence to actually hunt the
survivors rather than just scream and attack. Up to now we’d been able to
count on any infected attack being announced in advance by a scream, but it
didn’t seem we had that luxury any longer. Survival had gotten a lot tougher.
I glanced at the dash and noted the time on the clock. We’d
lost nearly an hour due to our little mishap. Four hours left and we still had
to get into downtown Nashville. By nature I’m fairly optimistic, but was
having a hard time thinking we were going to make the last train out before the
herd showed up. I pressed harder with my foot and pushed our speed to nearly
80. Driving this fast in the dark and rain was risky, but I didn’t think it
was as risky as not getting on that train. With no other way to cross the
Mississippi we’d be stuck between three herds that were converging on the
state.
“So what’s Plan B? What do we do if we can’t get to the
train, or get there too late?”
“We do what the pioneers did. We use a boat to get across.
Of course they had time to build rafts, time we won’t have, and I’m having a
hard time imagining we’ll have much luck finding one. Anyone that can get
their hands on one has probably already done so. Also, we cross on a boat and we’re
on foot when we get to the western shore. We can always steal another car or
truck, but…” I trailed off, not really sure where my train of thought was
going.
We blasted through Gallatin without seeing any other people,
infected or healthy, and quickly reached the highway the GPS voice told me to
turn onto. State Highway 386 turned us to the southwest and would connect up
with I-65 in a few miles. I kept our speed up, wipers on high. The rain was
falling even harder, torrential best describes it, and the wipers did their
best but couldn’t keep up with the volume of water that was falling out of the
sky. The headlights barely pierced the gloom and I had to jam on the brakes
and make some fancy maneuvers to avoid a pile up of cars that appeared when we
crested a small rise. After much skidding on the wet pavement I got us back
under control and decided to lower our speed a bit. Reaching I-65 we turned
due south towards Nashville and started seeing an occasional car speeding away
from the city in the north bound lanes.
“Where do you suppose they’re going?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know. This freeway goes up to Kentucky, and from
what we’ve heard things aren’t any better up there.”
We watched as two more SUVs passed us going north. Both
were heavily loaded with people and supplies. One of them was flashing his
lights and honking his horn. I didn’t know if this was for the other SUV or if
he was trying to warn me about something, but it definitely didn’t give me a
warm fuzzy. I checked the time and our speed and turned the radio back on,
scanning AM looking for any update Max might be broadcasting, but he was off
the air.
As we continued south we started seeing more businesses
along the interstate. After only about 15 minutes of driving we merged with I-24
that also fed into the city, and I had to slow more as we started regularly
encountering wrecked or abandoned vehicles. With the darkness and rain I
couldn’t see them sitting there until we were almost on top of them and wasn’t
happy that I had to hold our speed under 40.
Some of the areas we passed through still had power. Most
didn’t, but there were some that were brightly lit as we drove past. Every one
we passed that had light also had large groups of infected stumbling around. I
suspected the dark ones did too, we just couldn’t see them. The navigation
screen showed the freeway we were on splitting a short distance ahead and the
voice told me to get on I-24. Approaching the interchange where the road split
I stepped on the brakes and came to a stop. Ahead were
the impact of female infected having enough intelligence to actually hunt the
survivors rather than just scream and attack. Up to now we’d been able to
count on any infected attack being announced in advance by a scream, but it
didn’t seem we had that luxury any longer. Survival had gotten a lot tougher.
I glanced at the dash and noted the time on the clock. We’d
lost nearly an hour due to our little mishap. Four hours left and we still had
to get into downtown Nashville. By nature I’m fairly optimistic, but was
having a hard time thinking we were going to make the last train out before the
herd showed up. I pressed harder with my foot and pushed our speed to nearly
80. Driving this fast in the dark and rain was risky, but I didn’t think it
was as risky as not getting on that train. With no other way to cross the
Mississippi we’d be stuck between three herds that were converging on the
state.
“So what’s Plan B? What do we do if we can’t get to the
train, or get there too late?”
“We do what the pioneers did. We use a boat to get across.
Of course they had time to build rafts, time we won’t have, and I’m having a
hard time imagining we’ll have much luck finding one. Anyone that can get
their hands on one has probably already done so. Also, we cross on a boat and we’re
on foot when we get to the western shore. We can always steal another car or
truck, but…” I trailed off, not really sure where my train of thought was
going.
We blasted through Gallatin without seeing any other people,
infected or healthy, and quickly reached the highway the GPS voice told me to
turn onto. State Highway 386 turned us to the southwest and would connect up
with I-65 in a few miles. I kept our speed up, wipers on high. The rain was
falling even harder, torrential best describes it, and the wipers did their
best but couldn’t keep up with the volume of water that was falling out of the
sky. The headlights barely pierced the gloom and I had to jam on the brakes
and make some fancy maneuvers to avoid a pile up of cars that appeared when we
crested a small rise. After much skidding on the wet pavement I got us back
under control and decided to lower our speed a bit. Reaching I-65 we turned
due south towards Nashville and started seeing an occasional car speeding away
from the city in the north bound lanes.
“Where do you suppose they’re going?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know. This freeway goes up to Kentucky, and from
what we’ve heard things aren’t any better up there.”
We watched as two more SUVs passed us going north. Both
were heavily loaded with people and supplies. One of them was flashing his
lights and honking his horn. I didn’t know if this was for the other SUV or if
he was trying to warn me about something, but it definitely didn’t give me a
warm fuzzy. I checked the time and our speed and turned the radio back on,
scanning AM looking for any update Max might be broadcasting, but he was off
the air.
As we continued south we started seeing more businesses
along the interstate. After only about 15 minutes of driving we merged with I-24
that also fed into the city, and I had to slow more as we started regularly
encountering wrecked or abandoned vehicles. With the darkness and rain I
couldn’t see them sitting there until we were almost on top of them and wasn’t
happy that I had to hold our speed under 40.
Some of the areas we passed through still had power. Most
didn’t, but there were some that were brightly lit as we drove past. Every one
we passed that had light also had large groups of infected stumbling around. I
suspected the dark ones did too, we just couldn’t see them. The navigation
screen showed the freeway we were on splitting a short distance ahead and the
voice told me to get on I-24. Approaching the interchange where the road split
I stepped on the brakes and came to a stop. Ahead were
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