A swarm of zombies filled the narrow canyon on one side of the unlikely pair, but it was the vehicle that roared toward Rollie that had him more concerned. Turning toward the mangy teen he said, “So you’re still going to convince whoever is driving that loud as hell ride that working together to fight these zombies is better than wasting bullets on each other just so the undead can have a warm meal?”
“I’ll do my best, but you guys have shot down three of my friends.”
“There is that,” Rollie said, while shading his eyes against the glare as the vehicle finally came into view. He drew back in shock at the size of the thing. This was no pickup, a full blow semi-truck whipped down the crumbling road toward them.
“Ooo, they’re busting out the big guns for you,” the teen said.
Rollie dropped his empty pistol and held up his hands as the truck raced toward him.
It skidded to a stop with a wild spray of gravel. A second later the window rolled down. “What the hell you doing? Pick up that gun and let’s get going.”
“Who else would it be?” He could see the former bartender eying the approaching horde. “Who’s this kid?”
“Well Chris, if you feel like living, I suggest you come with us. Now grab those containers of water and get your asses in here.”
Rollie lifted two of the containers, which he had luckily already filled, and gave them to Chris. Chris was more than happy to take them and run into the back seat of the rig.
Throwing a look over his shoulder, Rollie saw that the horde was less than a hundred feet away. He bent down to get the last two plastic containers and cried out when a hand grabbed his wrist. He had forgotten about the teen he had shot in the chest and looked on in horror as its form raised itself out of the murky desert pool.
Jack might have yelled something, but Rollie couldn’t hear a word over the loud moan of the zombie that had him. His body had been in an awkward position and he wasn’t able to pull away. The brackish water flowed from its mouth as it leaned in toward him.
Rollie tried to pull his arm back while he fumbled for his knife. He had to abandon that goal when the thing moved in for a bite. He was forced to use his free hand to keep those teeth away from him by pushing against the dead teen’s forehead.
“Son of a…” he started, but then grabbed a hand full of the zombie’s hair and pulled it toward him. The undead had been on his knees and fell forward with a large splash. Water stung his eyes, but Rollie kept pulling and finally his wrist came free.
With the sounds of the advancing horde burning his ears, he yelled, “Screw you!” and kicked the teen in the head. Drawing his knife, he dashed forward and thrust it deep into its left eye while it attempted to rise. The teen fell back with a groan. Leaving his knife there, he grabbed the last two water containers and run to the truck just as a dozen undead reached out their filthy arms for him.
Jack didn’t wait until the door was shut, as soon as Rollie was inside, he floored it into the trashing bodies of the dead. Grim faced and silent, Jack drove over the bodies by the score.
Rollie felt like they road over a field of boulders and thought they’d get stuck more than once, but the ride proved to be big enough to take them through the horde and out the smashed gate. By the time they reached the parking lot the horde had thinned enough that the foul sounding meaty whacks dropped down to only one every few seconds.
Jack broke the silence. “Looks like we made it.”
“But at such a cost, for only twelve gallons of water.”
“You got that right and I don’t think we’ll be able to go back there again.”
“Nope, no one will.”
They road in silence for a while and then Jack turned and favored him with a slight grin. “That’s okay, I always liked Tanque Verde Falls better anyway.”
Come back next weekend when we start a new journey into the second year of the Zombie Apocalypse