north, it would run into Sam—who by this point
had probably sat down and gone into shock from his wound. Zombie bite victims
report feeling disoriented after they’re infected, this was according to early
news reports from back before anyone knew it was going to be an epidemic. Their
bodies shut down as a terrible fever overcomes them, just like people infected
with HIV. It's the body’s way of trying to fight off the virus. It doesn't work
and it leaves the victim totally incapacitated. Sometimes, from what I've
heard, they then experience organ failure. Within a few hours they lose the
ability to think clearly; they can’t communicate and then become agitated. At
that point they aren't fully people anymore, but they aren't quite zombies yet
either. The first victims had no way of knowing what was happening to them.
Poor Sam does. He'd know the whole way through what was happening to him. I
couldn't begin to imagine that kind of fear.
Without thinking, I stood up and stared at the truck.
“What are you doing?” Joel demanded. “Get back down, you
moron!”
Joel grabbed at my jeans, trying to yank me back down, but I
pulled away from him and walked out into the middle of the road. The truck was
barreling down on me. At first, I wasn't sure it was going to stop.
Great , I thought as the front bumper of the truck
drew closer to my kneecaps. I've survived the end of the world only to die
of a car accident.
“What the hell!” I heard a man's voice yell. The tires
squealed as the truck came to a screeching halt less than ten feet from me.
White smoke rose up from the tires and the smell of burning rubber filled the
air. The two men in back had their faces covered. They were standing in the bed
of the truck and pointed their weapons at me.
“Don't shoot!” I hollered. “We just need a ride.”
The driver of the truck opened the door and stepped out.
“John?” One of the shooters cautioned him.
“It's all right,” John said. “Just keep him covered for
now.”
He turned his attention to me.
“Where did you come from?”
“Military base up north,” I said, keeping my hands up. “We
were overrun by a zombie horde.”
“There is no such thing as a zombie horde,” John replied
matter-of-factly. “Zoms can't barely think for themselves. They're driven by
hunger, like mindless insects. They are drawn to the living by sight and smell. Period . They don't communicate with other zombies and they don't work
together.”
“That's what we thought too,” I said, trying not to tremble.
I couldn't tell if it was the cold or the fear getting to me. “Until they
knocked down the walls at Vandenberg and killed everyone we knew.”
“Vandenberg's been taken out? Jesus.”
“They were definitely working together,” I added, feeling a
little more confident. “Like they had some kind of hive mind.”
“How'd you get down this way?” John asked, ignoring my
suggestion.
“We walked,” I replied.
“There are more of you?” John looked around nervously for an
ambush. His guards did the same. “Come on out. Show yourselves.”
Slowly Benji, Tom, and Joel stood up.
“Get your hands up where we can see them!” The guards swung
around and trained their guns on the group in the bushes. Joel gave me an angry
look.
“They're just little kids,” one of the men shouted to the
leader who acted like he didn't hear him.
“Is that all of you?” John shouted.
“Yes it is,” I said, shooting a threatening look to the rest
of the group to keep their mouths shut about Sam.
“Get on out here,” John ordered. Cautiously the group walked
over and joined me in front of the truck's headlights.
“Now,” John said, seeming calmer, “where are you headed?”
“Lompoc,” I said. “Then farther down south toward the
coast.”
John laughed and shook his head.
“It's a good thing we found you,” he said. “You'd never make
it into the city without an armed escort.”
“What do you mean?” Joel
had probably sat down and gone into shock from his wound. Zombie bite victims
report feeling disoriented after they’re infected, this was according to early
news reports from back before anyone knew it was going to be an epidemic. Their
bodies shut down as a terrible fever overcomes them, just like people infected
with HIV. It's the body’s way of trying to fight off the virus. It doesn't work
and it leaves the victim totally incapacitated. Sometimes, from what I've
heard, they then experience organ failure. Within a few hours they lose the
ability to think clearly; they can’t communicate and then become agitated. At
that point they aren't fully people anymore, but they aren't quite zombies yet
either. The first victims had no way of knowing what was happening to them.
Poor Sam does. He'd know the whole way through what was happening to him. I
couldn't begin to imagine that kind of fear.
Without thinking, I stood up and stared at the truck.
“What are you doing?” Joel demanded. “Get back down, you
moron!”
Joel grabbed at my jeans, trying to yank me back down, but I
pulled away from him and walked out into the middle of the road. The truck was
barreling down on me. At first, I wasn't sure it was going to stop.
Great , I thought as the front bumper of the truck
drew closer to my kneecaps. I've survived the end of the world only to die
of a car accident.
“What the hell!” I heard a man's voice yell. The tires
squealed as the truck came to a screeching halt less than ten feet from me.
White smoke rose up from the tires and the smell of burning rubber filled the
air. The two men in back had their faces covered. They were standing in the bed
of the truck and pointed their weapons at me.
“Don't shoot!” I hollered. “We just need a ride.”
The driver of the truck opened the door and stepped out.
“John?” One of the shooters cautioned him.
“It's all right,” John said. “Just keep him covered for
now.”
He turned his attention to me.
“Where did you come from?”
“Military base up north,” I said, keeping my hands up. “We
were overrun by a zombie horde.”
“There is no such thing as a zombie horde,” John replied
matter-of-factly. “Zoms can't barely think for themselves. They're driven by
hunger, like mindless insects. They are drawn to the living by sight and smell. Period . They don't communicate with other zombies and they don't work
together.”
“That's what we thought too,” I said, trying not to tremble.
I couldn't tell if it was the cold or the fear getting to me. “Until they
knocked down the walls at Vandenberg and killed everyone we knew.”
“Vandenberg's been taken out? Jesus.”
“They were definitely working together,” I added, feeling a
little more confident. “Like they had some kind of hive mind.”
“How'd you get down this way?” John asked, ignoring my
suggestion.
“We walked,” I replied.
“There are more of you?” John looked around nervously for an
ambush. His guards did the same. “Come on out. Show yourselves.”
Slowly Benji, Tom, and Joel stood up.
“Get your hands up where we can see them!” The guards swung
around and trained their guns on the group in the bushes. Joel gave me an angry
look.
“They're just little kids,” one of the men shouted to the
leader who acted like he didn't hear him.
“Is that all of you?” John shouted.
“Yes it is,” I said, shooting a threatening look to the rest
of the group to keep their mouths shut about Sam.
“Get on out here,” John ordered. Cautiously the group walked
over and joined me in front of the truck's headlights.
“Now,” John said, seeming calmer, “where are you headed?”
“Lompoc,” I said. “Then farther down south toward the
coast.”
John laughed and shook his head.
“It's a good thing we found you,” he said. “You'd never make
it into the city without an armed escort.”
“What do you mean?” Joel
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