Everything Dies | Season 3 by Malpass T.W

Author:Malpass, T.W. [Malpass, T.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Sericia
Published: 2020-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

3

The Snowcat emerged from the dense cover of the British Columbian wilderness like a spluttering old grizzly bear in the midst of its final breath.

Salty felt fortune was on their side when he spied the weathered asphalt of Highway 37 and, on the other side, the snowy rooftops of the work camp and gas station at Meziadin Junction. Meziadin was situated where the highway split in its path from Terrace to Dease Lake, one branch heading over Bear Pass to Stewart.

Salty had managed to navigate using the maps he’d found to exactly where he wanted to be. He stopped short of the highway and pulled his binoculars from his pack. He scanned the wooden cabins at the camp, the accommodations, fuel station, general store, and restaurant. There were no lights or movement he could detect.

Anna sat alongside him, staring at the camp with equal curiosity.

Salty lowered the binoculars and chewed on his lip while he considered his next move. Although his intention was to get the Snowcat to the gas pumps in the hope he could fill the empty tank, he knew bringing the vehicle any closer would surely alert potential ambushers waiting for victims.

He zipped up his jacket to his neck and snatched his rifle and pack from the footwell.

‘Let’s take a look-see,’ he said.

Anna couldn’t wait to jump out and stretch her legs. They’d been cooped up for hours trying to make the final miles needed to reach the junction before the Snowcat ran down to fumes.

She took off, kicking up plumes of loose powder with her back paws, racing over the empty highway.

‘Hey! Don’t stray too far,’ Salty said, his tone inflecting the concern of a father.

As he got to the middle of the highway, he looked past the camp and over to Meziadin Park and Lake.

There were at least thirty motorhomes and tents lining the edge of the water. It was impossible to tell whether they had been abandoned during the outbreak or had arrived since. Either way, it was unlikely that they were inhabited by anything living now.

Just before he hit the trail for the camp, he came upon a sign warning about the dangers of hitch-hiking. It featured a pretty competent print of a painting that depicted a lone woman trying to thumb a lift. As a car approached, the wispy spectres of supposedly dead hitch-hikers that had gone before swirled around her body, attempting to dissuade her from her course of action, and cross-shaped headstones paved one side of the highway ahead. The rather haunting scene was captioned with a question: ‘Is it worth the risk, sister?’

Salty’s worst fears were realised when he reached the pumps at the gas station. Not only were they locked, they appeared to be empty.

The door was open to the station itself, and he searched the mouldy interior for the attendant’s office.

The place had been gutted of any produce, so the bare shelves had become a hive for dust and intricately woven spiderwebs that stretched several inches long. They had taken the creatures that created them time and care to construct.

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