Induction

We spent the next hour silently searching nearby cars for keys. Neither of us talking. Despite not wanting to think about the morning’s events, my thoughts kept wandering. I knew she was just a dog. But she was my dog, and the thought of losing her, in addition to everything else, was something my already-fragile psyche just couldn’t cope with. I wasn’t even going to let myself think about what could have happened to Jake or I’d lose it.

We were beginning to get discouraged when we found a car with the keys dangling from the ignition. As we dropped our bags into the backseat, Jake handed me the hammer. He must have picked it up back at the fence. Its cold steel served as a tainted memory of his callous actions. A colorful tote bag lay on the floor in front of the passenger seat. I emptied its contents into the backseat and placed Daphne inside, clutching the bag to my chest to keep her close.

I rummaged through my backpack and handed Jake a bottle of water. Looking around the car, I pulled the clean ashtray from the console and filled it with water from my bottle and held it in front of Daphne. All three of us drank our fill as we drove our new car away from our safe house.

* * *

After a few miles of maneuvering through roads congested with abandoned vehicles and wandering dead, Jake stopped the car in the middle of the few stretches of empty asphalt. “What are you doing?”

“We have less than a quarter tank of gas and no destination in mind.” He punched the steering wheel and flopped back in his seat. “This situation is fucked.”

The sound of an explosion in the distance pulled us from our wallowing. Somewhere across town a mass of dark plumes filled the sky. The explosion was followed by a barrage of smaller sounds: gunshots. Someone, no scratch that, a lot of someones, were shooting. My surprise was mirrored in Jake’s face.

“People alive and fighting back,” I said. “We need to get to them.”

Jake looked down at the gas gauge. “I don’t think we’ll have enough gas to get us there. We’re running on fumes.”

“Then get us as close as this POS will take us, and we’ll figure something else out when the time comes.” I pointed a finger in the direction of our salvation. “Let’s roll! Destiny awaits!”

Whomever had come up with the roadways in our small town deserved a good bitch-slap. Along the Southwest coast of Florida, Cape Coral had too many waterways. Streets intersecting canals dead-ended and picked up on the other side of the water. This annoyance caused us to turn back and change routes time and time again and used more of our precious fuel. We turned down what we hoped to be a through way, and a green pickup truck sped toward us.

I began jumping in my seat and pointing at the truck. Like somehow if I didn’t call attention to the oncoming vehicle, Jake would miss it. We slowed as the truck approached and stopped alongside its driver’s side window.

“Man,” Jake greeted the driver, “you have no idea how good it is to see another person out here. Haven’t seen another living soul since this thing started.”

The driver, a thirty something man, looked like he spent a lot of time at the gym. A little girl, no older than seven or eight, separated him from a disheveled woman who looked to be in her late sixties. “I know what you mean,” the man said. “I started out alone, and met up with these folks along the way. We’ve come across some pretty bad shit out there.”

The little girl gasped at his use of profanity, and I smiled thinking she would probably have a heart attack after spending an hour with me.

“My name is Adam,” the man said, “and this is Gabby and Margie.”

They waved a hello to us. A smile beamed from little Gabby’s face and I thought how odd and out of place the expression was given the circumstances.

“The Talbot’s are bringing up the rear.” He hooked his thumb toward the bed of the truck where a couple in their forties sat gripping the sides for support.

“I’m Jake Rossi, and this is my wife Emma. Where you folks headed?”

A hand latched onto the tailgate of the truck and the head of one of the undead peered over and attempted to claw its way into the bed. Mr. Talbot picked up a bloody baseball bat and swung it at the head. A wet crunch sounded and the body fell out of view. “Hey, Adam, we should probably get this show on the road. The natives are getting restless back here.”

Adam looked around for more threats; a massive group of zombies was about a hundred feet away from the cars. “We’ve been trying to get to the gunshots for the last hour. I know we’re getting closer, but these streets are a bitch to navigate.”

“Tell me about it,” I replied in exasperation. “Got room for two more back there? This hunk of junk is running on fumes.”

“Hop in.” Adam glanced in the rearview mirror. “Better make quick work of it though. It’s time to leave this party.”

The zombies were closing ranks on our little caravan and pretty soon they would block us in.