Stay Dead 2: The Dead and The Dying by Steve Wands

they never
seemed further away than they did now.
    Jon-Jon was able to steer the van, and
consequently the convoy, out of the mess of vehicles on the road
and onto the shoulder. He drove up the shoulder as far as he could
until having to take to the side of the road, which was much
bumpier, but seemed to be clear as far as his eyes could
see.
    Eddie was still leaning forward
between Jon-Jon and Dawn, but was now starting to feel sick from
the bumpy ride. He couldn’t focus on anything beyond the windshield
and it was giving him a headache. Fuck it, he thought. Jon-Jon was
more than capable of driving the van and getting everyone closer to
the coast. Eddie just wanted to preoccupy himself with something to
do. If he wasn’t doing something his mind would wander through the
days that led up to today and they were all pretty bad. He thought
it was funny how you could have a life full of good times, but only
focus on the bad ones. Maybe if good times left scars, he’d be more
inclined to remember them.
    He moved to the back, almost falling
over Chung-Hee’s leg, to sit next to his brother and mother. He
leaned over the back of the seat, looking for his backpack and
rifled out his notebook and pencil. He doubted he’d be able to
write anything down with the van bouncing around as it was, but at
the very least he could read over his journal entries from the days
before. He was never much for writing, but he figured it would be
an okay way to keep track of events, and at the least, days. It was
as much a calendar as it was a journal, and as he opened it up he
saw an entry that was just the date, the time, and a barely legible
scribble that read, ‘fuck this bullshit.’
    Those three words pretty much summed
up his thoughts on the whole end-of-the-world-by-zombies thing that
was going on. Then again, that was pretty much his motto in life.
When things got to real, to serious, it was bullshit. When
girlfriends got to serious it was time to walk away. When work
started looking like a career it was time to hand in his two
weeks.
    As he flipped through his notebook he
traveled back in time and could see his words on the page transform
into a crystal clear memory of the days that blurred into one long,
unending, motherfucker of a day. He flipped all the way to the
beginning of the notebook—day one. When he wrote it it was
nighttime, and technically it might’ve been the second day, because
he couldn’t recall what time he actually wrote it. He stared at it
for a moment, then he realized he didn’t want to go back there. He
didn’t want to remember any of the shit that had happened. So he
closed the book, closed his eyes, and did his best not to
cry.
    He folded his arms and faked trying to
sleep as the tears silently slid down his face.

 
     
     
     
    9 WHEN SARAH MET
JIM
    (back to
top)
     
     
    The man woke her up by putting an ice
pack to her cheek. Startled, she jumped as the beginnings of a
scream died in her throat as she came to realize where she was. The
man backed away, immediately regretting waking her the way he did.
Not so much because it startled her, but because she almost
screamed. And if she had screamed, it was a good possibility this
pain in his ass’s voice would carry all the way outside and rouse
up some of those dead fuckers that he’d been doing his best to stay
clear of.
    She took the ice pack and quietly
said, “Thanks.”
    He nodded, and then took a seat on the
floor close to her. He looked her over carefully, staring at her
scratches and bruises as best he could in the dark. She looked at
him, knowing what he was about to ask, and beat him to the chase,
“I wasn’t bit. I already told you that.”
    “ And I’m supposed to take
your word?”
    “ Then just let me catch my
breath and I’ll be on my way.”
    “ If that’s what you want to
do I won’t stop you, but just because I’m trying to be safe and
smart about this doesn’t mean I want to see you go out there and
get yourself