Zombie Chaos (Book 2): Highway to Hell by Martone D.L

Author:Martone, D.L. [Martone, D.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: NGU Publishing
Published: 2020-02-14T22:00:00+00:00

Just be hiding in the damn van!

From the rear of the vehicle, I flipped on my hand-crank flashlight and scanned the van’s interior. Only a few tense seconds passed before I was rewarded with the sight of two glowing eyes peering at me from the driver’s-side footwell.

I smiled, the relief likely evident on my face. “Always knew you were a smart girl.”

She blinked once, and I returned the gesture.

“Sorry about the ruckus. I’ll try to keep it down. Just sit tight, OK?”

Then I pulled the tarp over my exposed cache of weapons, secured the doors, and strolled to the front of the van. With the lantern perched on my radiator, Ray leaned over the engine compartment, gripped the busted hose, and examined the area for additional damage. When he sensed me beside him, he stepped back from the van, wiping excess coolant from his hands.

“I can fix dis for ya.”

“Seriously? That would be awesome.”

He nodded toward the side-view mirror. “Can fix dat, too. Course, in a pinch, all ya need is a li’l duct tape.”

“Yeah, I forgot a few key items when I was packing up, but luckily, a nice guy back in New Orleans took pity on me and gave me some tape before I left town. Just haven’t had a chance to fix it yet.”

“Well, ya got a chance now. Hard enough drivin’ out dere wit’out bein’ half-blind.”

“True enough,” I said. “But I don’t know how to repay you. I already owe you for my life.”

Ray gazed at his son, who sat on the concrete floor, surrounded by dead bodies and wrestling with the dog.

“You saved da dog. Dat’d make him yours, but… let Travis take him an’ do me one more favor, an’ I’d say we’re even.”

“Looks like Frankie already made that decision for us,” I said. “Besides, I don’t think Azazel would appreciate him much.”

The Cajun dude and his son had saved my life, rescuing me (and my cat) from a bunch of murderous rednecks. On top of that, he was offering to repair my radiator and my side-view mirror. Figured the least I could do was give him the shaggy dog I’d just met and help him with whatever task he had in mind.

I glanced at Ray. “What do you need from me?”

Ray’s focus shifted from me to Travis. “Son, go git my red toolbox. An’ bring ya li’l sis back witcha. Tell her to pack her 9mm.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy replied with the discipline of a Marine sergeant. Then, he rose to his feet, approached the garage door, and flipped on a small flashlight.

As he peered through the glass window, no doubt checking for trouble, Frankie scrambled to his feet, too. Obviously protective of his new family, the dog trailed behind Travis and nudged the teenager’s leg.

Turning, Travis simply said, “Stay here, boy. I’ll be right back.” Then, he readied his gun, turned the knob, and slipped into the darkness, shutting the door behind him.

“Wait,” I said to Ray. “Should he really be out there by himself?”

“Trust me,” he said.

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