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Authors: Dirk Patton
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the floor and rolled herself into a ball in the passenger side foot well. The
truck was accelerating away from the ambush but moments later a bullet punched
through the rear window of the truck then the windshield, travelling a path
where her head had just been.
I took the first
turn I came too, the truck threatening to roll up onto two wheels as I wrenched
it through the turn without letting off the throttle. A final bullet pinged
off the back of the truck then we were clear. Expecting pursuit I kept on the
speed with an eye on the mirrors, but nothing appeared behind us. A couple of
miles and several turns later I felt it was safe to slow down.
“What the fuck
was that?” Rachel asked as she climbed back onto the seat.
“That was the
human race at its best,” I answered, taking another turn to get us heading west
once again. “World’s always been full of assholes and I’m guessing these guys
either wanted the truck, you, or both.”
Rachel didn’t
have a response to that and we were quiet for a bit as I kept pushing us
towards the west. The neighborhoods were all the same, a mix of obviously
abandoned houses and houses that were occupied by people hunkering down. We
hadn’t seen any infected in some time and I stayed on high alert for any more
ambushes. We were poorly armed and in no way able to fight off a concerted
attack. I knew many of the houses probably had guns and ammunition in them,
but was hesitant to stop.
Reaching Georgia
Highway 20 I continued our path west, dodging abandoned car accidents and the
occasional roving band of infected. We saw no more people on the streets, but
the further west we went the more infected we encountered. The males slowly
shambled after us, but the females charged us at a frightening speed. I didn’t
think we would last long on foot trying to outrun them.
It was now fully
dark and after the third time a screaming infected female ran into the side of
the truck, scaring the shit out of both of us, we decided it was time to find a
secure place to stop for the night.
“There was a
service station with roll up doors about two miles back,” Rachel said, placing
her hand lightly on my arm. She was exhausted and spooked, the light touch a
plea to get off the road.
“Let’s see what
it looks like,” I said and cranked the truck into a U-turn.
The service station
looked like it had once been a chain gas station but was now an independent
automotive repair shop. I drove past, slowing slightly, and didn’t see any
obvious danger. U-turning again I wheeled into the parking lot and backed the
truck to the one vacant service bay.
Loosening the
Glock in my waistband to make sure it would draw smoothly if needed I grabbed
the tire iron and stepped down out of the cab.
“Slide over and
be ready to back into the bay when I get the door open,” I said, slamming the
truck door before Rachel had a chance to respond. I watched for a second to
make sure she got behind the wheel, then stepped behind the truck and tried the
door. Mercifully it was unlocked and I was able to raise it with a squeal of
poorly lubricated metal.
Moving out of
the way I slapped the side of the truck as an all clear and Rachel quickly
backed into the garage. Turning to step in behind her my only warning that I
was being attacked was the slap of feet on pavement. I spun around in time to
meet an infected female that launched herself at me from a full run. She
wasn’t a big woman, but 110 pounds hit me square in the chest and knocked me
flat on my ass.
The tire iron
flew out of my hand, clanging across the garage bay. I got my hands in front
of me and locked on her shoulders, holding the snapping teeth at bay, and with
a mighty grunt I shoved her away. She flew a few feet and hit the front bumper
of the truck with a sickening thud, scrambling back to a crouch faster than she
should have been able to.
Fumbling for the
pistol and raising it, I snapped
the floor and rolled herself into a ball in the passenger side foot well. The
truck was accelerating away from the ambush but moments later a bullet punched
through the rear window of the truck then the windshield, travelling a path
where her head had just been.
I took the first
turn I came too, the truck threatening to roll up onto two wheels as I wrenched
it through the turn without letting off the throttle. A final bullet pinged
off the back of the truck then we were clear. Expecting pursuit I kept on the
speed with an eye on the mirrors, but nothing appeared behind us. A couple of
miles and several turns later I felt it was safe to slow down.
“What the fuck
was that?” Rachel asked as she climbed back onto the seat.
“That was the
human race at its best,” I answered, taking another turn to get us heading west
once again. “World’s always been full of assholes and I’m guessing these guys
either wanted the truck, you, or both.”
Rachel didn’t
have a response to that and we were quiet for a bit as I kept pushing us
towards the west. The neighborhoods were all the same, a mix of obviously
abandoned houses and houses that were occupied by people hunkering down. We
hadn’t seen any infected in some time and I stayed on high alert for any more
ambushes. We were poorly armed and in no way able to fight off a concerted
attack. I knew many of the houses probably had guns and ammunition in them,
but was hesitant to stop.
Reaching Georgia
Highway 20 I continued our path west, dodging abandoned car accidents and the
occasional roving band of infected. We saw no more people on the streets, but
the further west we went the more infected we encountered. The males slowly
shambled after us, but the females charged us at a frightening speed. I didn’t
think we would last long on foot trying to outrun them.
It was now fully
dark and after the third time a screaming infected female ran into the side of
the truck, scaring the shit out of both of us, we decided it was time to find a
secure place to stop for the night.
“There was a
service station with roll up doors about two miles back,” Rachel said, placing
her hand lightly on my arm. She was exhausted and spooked, the light touch a
plea to get off the road.
“Let’s see what
it looks like,” I said and cranked the truck into a U-turn.
The service station
looked like it had once been a chain gas station but was now an independent
automotive repair shop. I drove past, slowing slightly, and didn’t see any
obvious danger. U-turning again I wheeled into the parking lot and backed the
truck to the one vacant service bay.
Loosening the
Glock in my waistband to make sure it would draw smoothly if needed I grabbed
the tire iron and stepped down out of the cab.
“Slide over and
be ready to back into the bay when I get the door open,” I said, slamming the
truck door before Rachel had a chance to respond. I watched for a second to
make sure she got behind the wheel, then stepped behind the truck and tried the
door. Mercifully it was unlocked and I was able to raise it with a squeal of
poorly lubricated metal.
Moving out of
the way I slapped the side of the truck as an all clear and Rachel quickly
backed into the garage. Turning to step in behind her my only warning that I
was being attacked was the slap of feet on pavement. I spun around in time to
meet an infected female that launched herself at me from a full run. She
wasn’t a big woman, but 110 pounds hit me square in the chest and knocked me
flat on my ass.
The tire iron
flew out of my hand, clanging across the garage bay. I got my hands in front
of me and locked on her shoulders, holding the snapping teeth at bay, and with
a mighty grunt I shoved her away. She flew a few feet and hit the front bumper
of the truck with a sickening thud, scrambling back to a crouch faster than she
should have been able to.
Fumbling for the
pistol and raising it, I snapped
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