the engine idling. If I wasn’t back in twenty minutes the plan was for him to leave. I knew he wouldn’t, but that was the plan.
My guts felt like I had swallowed a salamander. As calm and collected as I could, which wasn’t working by the way, I turned to see if I could garner any information from my early warning detection system, Tommy. I was neither alarmed nor relieved.
“Hey buddy, got any feelings?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.
“I got a bunch Mr. T.” He said with a small smile on his face.
I waited for a second, hoping for some sort of revelation. Then it dawned on me that Tommy’s ‘feelings’ probably had more to do with how much he liked Pop-Tarts than with the outcome of our lives as we entered into Vona.
“Hey Mr. T.”
“Yeah Tommy.” I answered as I slowed the Jeep down to around 15 mph, slow enough to look for trouble and quick enough to get away from it.
“What’s it mean when you put your hand over your mouth?” He asked.
I was about to answer that it generally means to be quiet, but the universal sign for that usually only entails using your pointer finger. “I’m not sure Tommy, why?”
“Well Ryan has one hand over his mouth and the other hand is pointing to his throat and he’s shaking his head, side to side.”
My foot involuntarily slipped off the gas and onto the brake, I stalled the car.
“What’s the matter, Mike?” Tracy asked. “The last time you stalled your car we had almost hit a moose four wheeling.”
“This is worse. Something or someone is blocking Tommy’s abilities.”
As if on command we all stared out the windows convinced that whatever was causing this was within range. But Vona in death was a lot like Vona in life, dead. Why they had a sheriff’s office was beyond me, maybe if they had a rash of cow tipping they could lock the hooligans up. Or maybe if things got real bad and mailboxes started to get smashed they would have somewhere to put the bad guys. Hell we were three quarters through the town and I hadn’t seen a bar or a liquor store, so no real need to even lock up the town drunk. Ah wasteful government spending at its best.
“Tommy can Ryan write?” I asked hoping beyond hope. It seemed like a far-fetched idea, but I was open to suggestions. “Maybe a small note to kind of let us know what’s going on?”
“Oh God!” Tommy moaned.
I ground the starter a little bit in response to his alarm, looking around wildly for what had caused the distress in his voice. I was still on edge but when nothing visible showed itself I relaxed a bit. Just a bit, this was still Tommy we were talking about.
“What’s the matter Tommy?” Travis asked. Even Henry could feel the change in atmospheric pressure in the car as we waited for Tommy to elaborate.
“All of Ryan’s fingers are all crunched up and broken looking.” Tommy said almost silently, a small sob escaped him.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” I said nervously.
“What’s that mean Mike?” Tracy asked me, panic beginning to well in her chest to match mine and Tommy’s. Only Travis seemed the least affected, but I noticed his knuckles turning a brighter shade of white as they gripped his shotgun.
“We’re being hunted, I think.” I answered.
Tracy’s tension eased a bit. “Well duh. Zombies have been after us for three weeks now, what’s so new about that?”
“No this is different. This isn’t just about some zombies stumbling across us and trying to eat us. We’re being singled out, purposefully tracked.”
“How? That’s not even possible.” She yelled back, more in defense of her sanity than in any answer to transgression on my part.
“Possible? You’re pulling the possible card out?” I asked.
“Ok sorry. But how?” She said subdued. “And I guess, why? And who?”
“Maybe we taste better.” I said. Tracy glared at me. “Sorry.” I held my hands up to ward off any attempted blows. “Poor choice of words.”
“You think?”
I was scared
My guts felt like I had swallowed a salamander. As calm and collected as I could, which wasn’t working by the way, I turned to see if I could garner any information from my early warning detection system, Tommy. I was neither alarmed nor relieved.
“Hey buddy, got any feelings?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.
“I got a bunch Mr. T.” He said with a small smile on his face.
I waited for a second, hoping for some sort of revelation. Then it dawned on me that Tommy’s ‘feelings’ probably had more to do with how much he liked Pop-Tarts than with the outcome of our lives as we entered into Vona.
“Hey Mr. T.”
“Yeah Tommy.” I answered as I slowed the Jeep down to around 15 mph, slow enough to look for trouble and quick enough to get away from it.
“What’s it mean when you put your hand over your mouth?” He asked.
I was about to answer that it generally means to be quiet, but the universal sign for that usually only entails using your pointer finger. “I’m not sure Tommy, why?”
“Well Ryan has one hand over his mouth and the other hand is pointing to his throat and he’s shaking his head, side to side.”
My foot involuntarily slipped off the gas and onto the brake, I stalled the car.
“What’s the matter, Mike?” Tracy asked. “The last time you stalled your car we had almost hit a moose four wheeling.”
“This is worse. Something or someone is blocking Tommy’s abilities.”
As if on command we all stared out the windows convinced that whatever was causing this was within range. But Vona in death was a lot like Vona in life, dead. Why they had a sheriff’s office was beyond me, maybe if they had a rash of cow tipping they could lock the hooligans up. Or maybe if things got real bad and mailboxes started to get smashed they would have somewhere to put the bad guys. Hell we were three quarters through the town and I hadn’t seen a bar or a liquor store, so no real need to even lock up the town drunk. Ah wasteful government spending at its best.
“Tommy can Ryan write?” I asked hoping beyond hope. It seemed like a far-fetched idea, but I was open to suggestions. “Maybe a small note to kind of let us know what’s going on?”
“Oh God!” Tommy moaned.
I ground the starter a little bit in response to his alarm, looking around wildly for what had caused the distress in his voice. I was still on edge but when nothing visible showed itself I relaxed a bit. Just a bit, this was still Tommy we were talking about.
“What’s the matter Tommy?” Travis asked. Even Henry could feel the change in atmospheric pressure in the car as we waited for Tommy to elaborate.
“All of Ryan’s fingers are all crunched up and broken looking.” Tommy said almost silently, a small sob escaped him.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” I said nervously.
“What’s that mean Mike?” Tracy asked me, panic beginning to well in her chest to match mine and Tommy’s. Only Travis seemed the least affected, but I noticed his knuckles turning a brighter shade of white as they gripped his shotgun.
“We’re being hunted, I think.” I answered.
Tracy’s tension eased a bit. “Well duh. Zombies have been after us for three weeks now, what’s so new about that?”
“No this is different. This isn’t just about some zombies stumbling across us and trying to eat us. We’re being singled out, purposefully tracked.”
“How? That’s not even possible.” She yelled back, more in defense of her sanity than in any answer to transgression on my part.
“Possible? You’re pulling the possible card out?” I asked.
“Ok sorry. But how?” She said subdued. “And I guess, why? And who?”
“Maybe we taste better.” I said. Tracy glared at me. “Sorry.” I held my hands up to ward off any attempted blows. “Poor choice of words.”
“You think?”
I was scared
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