Summer Of 68: A Zombie Novel by Millikin Kevin

Author:Millikin, Kevin [Millikin, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2014-06-04T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Sheriff Baker drove slow, his foot gracing the gas pedal, tapping it softly and fearful to stop. These last few miles crawled by at a snail’s pace. His eyes scanned the horizon with reserved caution. He exited from the main road and took an alternate route, the same shortcut Cohen had driven an hour or so prior. Veering down the side streets, the scenery abruptly changed. Where it was once a seamless prairie of farmlands and fields, was now replaced by recently constructed housing developments—front yard’s sprouted children’s toys, alongside gnarled oak trees and beautifully painted homesteads.

They zipped by as Baker gunned the engine. The motor roared, faster and faster. He tasted copper, blood, and swallowed it greedily down. His journey was finally reaching its end. Soon, he’d be at the station, gather his men and his mind and hopefully get this shit squared away.

Up ahead, the road branched into a T-shaped intersection, where suburbs met suburbs. In the center, two cars sat—post-collision. Broken glass and shredded metal peppered the pavement. The same could be said for the unfortunate drivers, whose mangled limbs and blood spattered the cracked windshields from within. They were dead. The extent of their injuries proved that neither one of them would reanimate anytime soon.

“Shit,” Baker whispered at a sharp clip.

He felt no pity or remorse for their deaths, save for a mild irritation. The wreckage sat in the center of the intersection, preventing him from a clear shot back to town. He intended to skirt the suburbs and now had no choice but to venture into their heart. It was a sour deal and he wasn’t familiar with these streets.

With a final look at the accident, he gave his vehicle a wide berth as to escape the strewn wreckage. Once he was clear, he hit the gas. The road’s curve took a sharp right, leading into a blind spot. Unthinking and anxious, Baker increased his speed until it was too late.

Screaming, he stomped his foot down on the brakes. With a nauseating shriek, the tires squealed. Billowing waves of dank smoke drifted from the pavement like a disease, lacking grace and elegance that came with the sultry rise of a wildfire. The cruiser skidded across the pavement. In the cabin, Baker was overcome by burnt rubber and other noxious fumes. Between his fingers, the steering wheel jerked sideways. He fought for control, summoning his strength to keep it in his grasp.

Baker screamed. Jolting forward, his body was slammed from side to side as the rear tires hopped the curb. Churning rubber dug furiously into manicured lawns. He pumped the brakes, stomping the pedal until his foot touched the floor. All around, grass and dirt kicked up, pelting the windows as though nothing more than a heavy rain.

Acting on instinct, he jerked the wheel right. It resisted, wanting to go left. With a resonating crunch, metal twisted, contorted and broke from the devastation of impact. His body slammed to the side, colliding against the driver side door.

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