All Together Now: A Zombie Story by Robert Kent

Author:Robert Kent
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

47

"GET YOUR SEATBELTS ON," DAD said.

I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Pain echoed through my skull and my sole focus was not puking in the police cruiser.

As we were nearly clear of the square, Dad slammed the brakes to avoid hitting an old man. When he looked up at us and snarled, we drove around him and onto Harrington Street.

At the intersection of Harrington and Kirkman Avenue (that's right, they named a street after him), the traffic light was blinking red. There were eight cars ahead, their drivers waiting patiently as though the rules of the road or the rules of anything still applied.

Ahead of the cars, a military convoy rounded the corner and headed down Kirkman Avenue.

"Are they going to Daddy's?" Michelle asked.

Something about the way she called Gerald Kirkman "Daddy" made my head hurt more.

"Yeah," Dad said. "Been coming in all morning. Is everybody good back there?"

"Good," Chuck called.

We waited another minute, but the convoy seemed endless. Trucks and jeeps, and even a tank.

Behind us, corpses from the square stumbled onto Harrington Street.

"Screw this," Dad said and fiddled with switches on the dash until the cruiser's siren sounded. He pulled into the left lane and we went around traffic and the convoy.

"We aren't going to Daddy's?" Michelle cried.

Dad shook his head, swerving around traffic and speeding up now that most cars were pulling to the side of the road for us. The end of the world or not, some responses are automatic.

"It's authorized personnel only until they get the cure out. Your father asked me to take you with us to Indy," Dad said. "There's a secure shelter on the north side and we're going to wait this out there."

"I don't want to go to Indy, I want to go to Daddy!" Michelle cried.

In the rearview mirror, I could see her makeup running in her tears. She was trembling and whimpering, but her eyes were every bit as wide as the pizza manager's had been as he approached the dead cop.

Beside her, Chuck was watching and I could tell by the way he was breathing he was getting worked up.

"You're not a little girl," I spat at Michelle. "Pull it together."

Dad sped up to 90 mph even though the speed limit on Harrington Street was 30. When you're in a cop car with sirens blazing and lights flashing, you can go pretty much as fast as you want.

"Are you listening to me?" Michelle screamed. "I want my daddy!"

I clamped both hands over my ears. "Please stop yelling."

I looked back and saw Chuck was crying as well.

"Everyone be quiet," Dad said.

I wanted to put my arm around my little brother, but, of course, I couldn't. I put my finger through a hole in the metal grating separating the seats. Chuck grabbed it with his whole hand.

As we approached the ramp to I-65 we slowed and passed Ernie's on our left. Through the glass front I could see Ernie and his wife, Sue, standing behind the counter watching the wall-mounted television.

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