they left quickly.
After that they drove to the outskirts of a slightly large town where they came across a lucky break. A recreational vehicle dealership stood beside the highway, and appeared to be abandoned. They settled on a gigantic 33 foot Fleetwood model set out near the road.
The office was dark despite the large windows, and of course locked up tight. Pressing their faces to the glass, they could see nothing moving inside, so they decided to make a try for it. Using a landscaping brick from a nearby flower bed, Sam smashed the window. The reek of rot wafted from the inside, something was dead in there. They moved in, Mom sweeping the flashlight attached to the barrel of her stolen rifle side to side, as Sam used his hand held to search behind furniture. They located the manager’s office, and Sam crept up and turned the knob, and at the same time he gently pushed it open, the smell was strongest here. Sam and his mother exchanged glances, and Sam shouted “hello!” His voice was rewarded when the scuffling of feet brought a very fat man dressed in a suit and cowboy hat out of the door. The creature locked eyes with Sam’s mother, raised its hands and rushed forward. It never sensed Sam hiding flat against the wall by the door, nor did it even react when he shot it point blank in the side of its head. It just fell over and splatted to the floor, the fall rupturing its massive stomach and spilling its putrid fluid into a slowly widening puddle. Sam stepped over its legs and looked about the room. Nothing else was moving, but behind the fat man’s desk was exactly what he wanted, a large cabinet with a single word stenciled on it, ‘KEYS’.
The doors broke easily and they quickly found the ones they wanted. The dealership had a diesel pump, so they decided to fill the tank. Ninety gallons with a hand pump takes a long time, and the sun was fading in the west by the time they finished. They connected a trailer they also found on the lot to the back and loaded the ATV in, and started back into the setting sun. It was almost thirty miles back to the swamp, and Sam was pleased to see that the GPS system was still getting a signal and found them a shorter route back. They made decent time, until about half way, when the spotted something that made them slow the large vehicle. Up ahead was a country church nestled into a bend in the road. A single minivan was parked in the front, and its lights were on.
This had to mean people, more than three months had passed since the end of the world and its battery would have long since run down. As they approached, an old man came running towards them waving his arms. Mom leaned forward and raised the rifle, aiming through the large front window as Sam came to a stop.
“Don’t shoot!” yelled the man holding his arms high into the air, “My brother needs help!”
“Don’t move, stay there!” yelled Sam and then softly to his mother “should we just keep going?”
“I raised you better than that”, she said with disappointment and moved to the door to step out.
They approached the frantic old man nervously, wary of a trap
“What’s going on?” Sam asked, his shotgun halfway up.
“My brother has been shot, he’s in the van and I think he is bleeding to death! Please help; we aren’t bad guys or anything.”
“We will see what we can do,” said mom as she started to the van. Sam stayed a few steps behind gun at the ready.
In the van was another man, both were very skinny. And the one in the back seat was a man with a long white beard, holding a bloody rag to his shoulder and looking warily at mom as she approached. An examination of the
After that they drove to the outskirts of a slightly large town where they came across a lucky break. A recreational vehicle dealership stood beside the highway, and appeared to be abandoned. They settled on a gigantic 33 foot Fleetwood model set out near the road.
The office was dark despite the large windows, and of course locked up tight. Pressing their faces to the glass, they could see nothing moving inside, so they decided to make a try for it. Using a landscaping brick from a nearby flower bed, Sam smashed the window. The reek of rot wafted from the inside, something was dead in there. They moved in, Mom sweeping the flashlight attached to the barrel of her stolen rifle side to side, as Sam used his hand held to search behind furniture. They located the manager’s office, and Sam crept up and turned the knob, and at the same time he gently pushed it open, the smell was strongest here. Sam and his mother exchanged glances, and Sam shouted “hello!” His voice was rewarded when the scuffling of feet brought a very fat man dressed in a suit and cowboy hat out of the door. The creature locked eyes with Sam’s mother, raised its hands and rushed forward. It never sensed Sam hiding flat against the wall by the door, nor did it even react when he shot it point blank in the side of its head. It just fell over and splatted to the floor, the fall rupturing its massive stomach and spilling its putrid fluid into a slowly widening puddle. Sam stepped over its legs and looked about the room. Nothing else was moving, but behind the fat man’s desk was exactly what he wanted, a large cabinet with a single word stenciled on it, ‘KEYS’.
The doors broke easily and they quickly found the ones they wanted. The dealership had a diesel pump, so they decided to fill the tank. Ninety gallons with a hand pump takes a long time, and the sun was fading in the west by the time they finished. They connected a trailer they also found on the lot to the back and loaded the ATV in, and started back into the setting sun. It was almost thirty miles back to the swamp, and Sam was pleased to see that the GPS system was still getting a signal and found them a shorter route back. They made decent time, until about half way, when the spotted something that made them slow the large vehicle. Up ahead was a country church nestled into a bend in the road. A single minivan was parked in the front, and its lights were on.
This had to mean people, more than three months had passed since the end of the world and its battery would have long since run down. As they approached, an old man came running towards them waving his arms. Mom leaned forward and raised the rifle, aiming through the large front window as Sam came to a stop.
“Don’t shoot!” yelled the man holding his arms high into the air, “My brother needs help!”
“Don’t move, stay there!” yelled Sam and then softly to his mother “should we just keep going?”
“I raised you better than that”, she said with disappointment and moved to the door to step out.
They approached the frantic old man nervously, wary of a trap
“What’s going on?” Sam asked, his shotgun halfway up.
“My brother has been shot, he’s in the van and I think he is bleeding to death! Please help; we aren’t bad guys or anything.”
“We will see what we can do,” said mom as she started to the van. Sam stayed a few steps behind gun at the ready.
In the van was another man, both were very skinny. And the one in the back seat was a man with a long white beard, holding a bloody rag to his shoulder and looking warily at mom as she approached. An examination of the
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