Road Kill

Chapter 2

1 Cassie

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“I can’t take it anymore,” groaned Nora. “If I have to listen to one more song by ‘Wailing Jennings’, I’m going to shoot myself in the head.”

“It’s ‘Waylon Jennings’,” corrected Henry, “and you need to show him a little respect, God rest his soul. Jesus, I had to listen to ‘Shityeah’ and lost two hours of my life that an old-timer like me can’t afford to waste.”

“It’s ‘Hellyeah’, and they freaken’ rock,” said Nora.

“Rock? Sounds like the main singer had something stuck in his throat,” said Henry. “It’s amazin’ what you kids listen to these days. Why, back in the day –”

Nora rolled her eyes. “Oh, here we go...”

“Artists like Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry knew how to entertain their fans.”

“Well, even I can appreciate Elvis, so why don’t you just stop while you’re ahead,” said Nora.

He went on. “That there Elvis, by golly, he made the women-folk crazy with his gyratin’ hips and velvety, smooth voice. I remember this gal I dated in my early twenties, Barbara Jean Crawford, she got so worked up listening to Elvis on the radio on the way to dinner during our second date, that she jumped my bones right there in the parking lot of the restaurant. I saved myself five dollars that night, man, ‘cause,” he cackled, “we never made that reservation.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” sighed Nora.

“I purchased every one of his records after that and always kept an eight-track in my truck, just in case I was feeling a little frisky.”

“Wow, you, frisky? That’s odd.”

“Yep, went through a lot of shocks in those days, but,” he smiled, wistfully, “them were some mighty good times.”

“Okay, we’re even,” said Nora.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I just lost minutes of my life that I’ll never get back, either.”

Having heard enough, I sat up and stretched my arms. “Where are we?”

“Oh, look who’s finally woken up from the dead,” replied Henry, glancing back at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m surprised Shityeah didn’t scare you awake, Wild.”

“Hellyeah,” grunted Nora.

“Nope. I must have really needed the rest,” I yawned. “I didn’t wake up until I heard you two bickering.”

“I’m surprised you could even sleep through this twisted country twang,” said Nora.

Honestly, I wasn’t that crazy about it either, at least not the older country music, but when I saw the look Henry gave her, I changed the subject. “Nora, did you happen to find any of your dad’s CDs?”

She began fiddling with the black leather wristband that Billie had given her. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you pop one in?” I asked.

“Later,” she replied.

After only a few hours on the road, we’d found a music shop and had stocked up on some CDs for the ride back to Minnesota.

“Your dad’s a musician?” asked Henry.

Nora stared out her side window. “Yep, he’s the lead vocalist for Death Row.”

Henry scratched his whiskers. “Death Row? Sounds like one of those heavy-metal bands. Your dad doesn’t bite off the heads of bats or urinate on his fans, does he?”

Nora turned to him and scowled. “No, but he does smoke too much, tell tall tales, and thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Like someone else we all know.”

Henry was silent for a minute and then his face turned red. “You talkin’ about me? I’ll have you know that I’ve never told a lie. I’ve had me a life filled with experiences that would knock your socks off, young lady. In fact, if I don’t survive this zombie apocalypse mumbo jumbo, I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. I’ve had no regrets in life, and as far as I’m concerned, every day from here on out is a gift from the man above.”

“Oh, stop talking about death, old man. You’ll probably outlive every damn one of us,” said Nora.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin of chew. “Not if I can help it. Why do you think I decided to tag along with the two of you? It wasn’t because it sounded like a fine plan. Hell no, I’m here because someone’s got to keep you reckless young girls from getting yourselves killed. But, I tell you what – if I die because of it, I know in this here ticker,” he said, pointing to his chest, “that it certainly won’t be in vain.”

I reached forward and gently patted his shoulder. “Come on now, Henry, we’re not going to let that happen. None of us are going to die on this trip.”

“Speaking of which, I think we should focus on getting gas right now,” said Nora, motioning toward the gas gauge. “Before this van dies.”

“Damn these gas-guzzling-mommy-mobiles,” he muttered.

“It’s still better than that gas-hog we left Atlanta in,” I said.

We’d been on the road now for two days and were somewhere in Illinois. After almost running out of gas the day before, we’d traded the truck in for an abandoned Honda Odyssey, because Henry said it would have better gas mileage.

Henry looked at the fuel level and frowned. “I hope we can find something soon. You said you know how to siphon gas, Nora?”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling her dark hair up into a ponytail. I stared at the blue fairy tattooed on the back of her neck and wished I would have gotten something before everything had gone to hell. My dad, who was pretty old-fashioned, would have never allowed it, however.

“So, how did you learn to siphon gas?” I asked.

“Don’t ask,” she answered with a smirk.

“There’s another town coming up, about ten miles,” said Henry. “Let’s just hope the zombie situation is manageable.”

“We need more food, too,” said Nora, slipping a piece of spearmint gum into her mouth. “I’m freaken’ hungry and gum just isn’t doing it anymore.”

“I’m hungry, too,” I said.

She handed me a piece of gum.

We drove the rest of the way in silence as I stared at my engagement ring, wondering what Bryce was doing at that particular moment. More than likely, he’d thrown quite the fit after reading my note and was probably debating on whether or not to track me down. Although I had to agree that it had been a reckless decision on my part, I still stood firm on it; my grandparents’ as well as Nora’s dad’s lives were at stake. If they were still alive, I had to go back for them. Besides, if I could survive the nightmare back in Atlanta, this would be a piece of cake.

“Heads up, girls, the town of Baylor is coming up,” said Henry.

I stared out the window as we entered the rundown little town. Just like most of the other places we’d passed through, it was empty and barren, except for the familiar sight of the dead that shuffled in and out of broken entryways or around street corners.

“Gross,” groaned Nora, rolling up her window.

Yes, the stench of death and decay greeted us like old friends. Baylor, however, held a little something extra for us.

“Crap,” I pointed up the street. “Check it out.”

“Oh, my God, are those nuns?” gasped Nora.

I watched in wonder as three women, all cloaked in black habits and yielding sharp weapons, stood outside of an old drugstore, fending off a group of overzealous zombies.

“Hurry, pull up to them,” I said, picking up the ax I’d set down by my feet.

“Already ahead of you,” said Henry, picking up speed as he steered toward the group.

When we stopped, Nora and I both got out and advanced on the zombies that were threatening the women. Fortunately, they were so transfixed on the nuns that they didn’t pay any notice of us until it was too late.

I moved behind a tall, gangly walker, whose head was bent at an unusual angle, and swung the ax with everything I had. As it fell to its knees, I dislodged my weapon from its skull and kicked the limp torso to the cement.

“Watch out, child!” hollered one of the nuns, a heavier-set woman with red curls poking out of her hood.

“I got it,” said Nora, delivering a roundhouse kick to the zombie rushing toward me. It fell to the ground and she quickly finished it off with her newest bludgeoning device – a long wrench we’d picked up in the last town. I cringed at the horrible crunching noise it made as she slammed it into the zombie’s skull.

“Thanks,” I said.

From there, I beheaded two additional zombies while Nora experimented with different ways of using her new weapon, delighting mostly in the “ram and twist” method. When we’d finished off the rest of the zombies, the nuns thanked us profusely.

“Thank goodness, you showed up,” said the red-haired nun. “I don’t know about Sister Theresa or Sister Elizabeth, but I’m not sure if I could have really attacked one of them.” She held up her large butcher knife. “The thought just sickens me.”

“Well, you have to destroy them,” said Nora, kicking at one of the zombies on the ground as it made one last feeble attempt to reach for her, “if you want to survive.”

Henry, who’d gotten out of the truck, took off his Stetson and nodded. “She’s right. Don’t you burden yourself with the guilt of saving your own life; I’m sure God would understand.”

The nun looked at the bloody c*****e we’d created and shook her head. “Well, I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why?” I asked, curious to know the nun’s take on the zombies and all of the bloodshed. “What do you mean?”

The nun turned to me and smiled grimly. “Because these are the ‘End of Days’, honey. These walking corpses are all part of God’s plan to eliminate the evil and corrupt, to cleanse the earth, so that we can start fresh.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Uh, excuse me? You mean...”

“Yes,” said the other nun. “This is just the preliminary to what’s going to happen next.”

“You mean you seriously think it’s going to get worse than this?” I asked, not knowing what to believe.

“Yes, child, much worse,” she replied, laying a hand on my shoulder.