This Plague of Days, Season Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Serial) by Chute Robert Chazz

Author:Chute, Robert Chazz [Chute, Robert Chazz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ex Parte Press
Published: 2013-09-29T04:00:00+00:00

WE ARE ALL BOUND FOR THE GHOST PARADE

The two-lane road — which was now one lane, one-way north — was so straight and slow, Jaimie thought of parades he’d seen on television. Instead of floats, marching bands and flowers, twisted metal stretched into the ditches. Tanks or bulldozers had cleared the narrow way. Threading the needle, the refugees drove so slowly that they had too much time to inspect each shattered vehicle.

“We’re driving like we’re in the mall parking lot at Christmas,” Jack said. “This trip is going to take forever.”

Anna reclined her seat as far as it would go. Her head was almost in Mrs. Bendham’s lap but the old woman didn’t complain. Instead, she shifted around as best she could so she could sleep, as well.

Though they had locked the doors, Jack double checked every few miles. Despite the heat, she brought the windows up, ever wary for threats. The humidity was punishing, but at this speed, she felt vulnerable to attack. If carjackers tried to take the van, she would simply run them over. After running over two men already, maybe it would get easier.

I will feel nothing, Jack decided, but that’s the sort of promise I’ll only figure out I can keep after the deed is done.

She wondered if anyone but a crazy person could actually dismiss such things successfully. However, if they were going to make it to the farm, she would have to cross out all that she had been: the watcher, the thinker and God-fearing suburban mother. To protect her family, maybe even the fear of God was a luxury she could no longer afford. People who turned the other cheek would have a hard time surviving the road.

Jack adjusted her rearview mirror to survey the cabin. Everyone in back was finally asleep. She glanced sideways at Jaimie. He was wide awake and looking out the window attentively. His lips were together, concealing his slight overbite. He looked quite normal, almost handsome and, for once, his head wasn’t in a dictionary.

Getting shot at might have brought out the best in her son. She would have laughed and danced at his apparent normalcy a few weeks ago. How long had it been since the plague had made them prisoners in their home? She wasn’t sure of the date or the day. Jack cleared her throat, swallowing a lump. It hadn’t been that long since the Sutr plague struck, but she wasn’t sure. Was this Tuesday or Friday? Did it matter anymore?

The cars and trucks were scattered like a huge child’s forgotten toys. They were often spray painted. The refugees passed several large trucks with their trailer doors sprung open. The word Food was spray painted on them. This had later been crossed out and, beside that, written in a cheery purple was the word Empty.

Another read: Contaminated.

The ubiquitous bright orange X was spray painted across many cars.

The silver BMW still forged ahead of them, traveling slowly, apparently conserving gas as Jack was trying to do.

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