Highway To Hell 2 Page 3

  Lyssa decided she'd worn out her welcome on this block. She'd sneak out and head back to her hiding spot and wait a few days before killing anyone else.

  Before she left, she carved an L to the left of the doorway and hid a box of ammo and two bottles of water in the rubble.

  You never knew when you'd be back in a building and need the important stuff.

  Chapter Six

  Randy counted four zombies, all kneeling on the cold pavement and feasting on what was left of a body. It seemed like they'd gotten hungrier lately, once the snow had melted. Yesterday he'd watched a zombie licking the sidewalk for a drop of blood.

  He knew he should stay inside the store and wait them out. How much longer could they really last, anyway? They were starting to dry up and fall apart.

  With any luck, the zombie apocalypse would be over soon and he could begin a new life. A life where he was one of the few survivors and he could take a nice piece of remote property for himself. Maybe find a dog as a best friend. Maybe raise some chickens for food. He'd have the rest of his days to figure out how to raise farm animals to eat.

  He thought if he walked quietly he could get around the zombies without any trouble. He didn't want to kill them anymore. It was gross and no matter how many times he washed his hands in the melting snow he could still smell the coppery blood tainting his skin.

  Randy failed to see the point of killing them again. It was a waste of energy and it wasn't like he'd wake up one morning to realize he'd killed every last zombie on Earth. How many people were now undead? He'd read somewhere there were over seven billion people in the world.

  Even if only ninety percent of them were now zombies... he couldn't kill billions of them by himself. Randy wondered how many he'd destroyed. If it was a hundred, he'd be surprised. Although, he had no idea how many he'd killed in Baltimore, thanks to leading the zombies to the Hellfire Club or how many before he came to his senses and arrived in Pennsylvania.

  Randy wondered how many Lyssa had killed. He wondered if she was insane. He wondered what she was wearing right now.

  He wasn't paying attention as usual, busy daydreaming, when he kicked something on the sidewalk and one of the zombies stopped feeding and looked in his direction.

  Maybe, if I stand still, it won't see me. It might be like in Predator, where I'm a heat signature. I'm cold so maybe I blend in with the wall behind me? Randy tried to remain calm but the zombie stood and one of his buddies joined him.

  Randy had no weapon. He'd collected a few wooden chair legs and sharpened them as best he could, but it made no difference. He'd left them back in the stock room like an idiot. A soon-to-be dead idiot.

  "I don't suppose we can talk about this?" Randy asked as the two approached. He knew he could outrun them or easily turn back around. He just didn't know which way he was going to go.

  He still didn't know why he was walking the streets. It was finally nice out, the temperature nice and he'd shed the heavy layers of clothing. He'd been woken by the sound of birds chirping somewhere nearby, but all he could think about was it attracting zombies.

  Randy was losing his mind trapped in the store. He needed to take a walk and clear his head, even though his mind was telling him what an idiot move this was.

  The zombies were getting closer, and Randy panicked when he saw another one coming from around the corner, the way he was about to run.

  If he went back inside the store, they'd try to follow and might never give up. He couldn't have a group of them slamming against the doors. The glass doors.

  He'd survived in the store this long because he hadn't made stupid mistakes like he'd just done. The only way to keep his hideaway from being exposed was to lead the zombies away and circle back eventually.

  Randy hesitated which way to go and turned. There were two more zombies coming from the other direction and they'd boxed him in. He'd have to fight his way out.

  He stared at his fists and sighed. Punching meant potentially breaking your own hand, and he wasn't manly enough to know karate or any cool kicks to drop an opponent.

  "Last chance to talk this through," he said to the closest zombie, only fifteen feet away and slowly gaining. Randy guessed they'd all surround him at roughly the same time, and take turns ripping him apart.

  The first gunshot came from above, and a zombie head exploded.

  Randy looked up but couldn't see where the shooter was perched.

  The second shot took out another zombie cleanly, the bullet slapping the zombie right in the forehead and dropping it.

  "I don't need your help," Randy yelled. He knew he was lying and whoever was shooting knew he was lying, but he felt it was something he needed to say.

  There was another shot and now Randy had figured out where it was coming from.

  The roof of the building where the store was.

  Randy had a sinking feeling in his gut.

  Whoever it was, they probably knew where he was staying.

  Another zombie was shot and fell to the street.

  Randy, keeping clear of the zombies, walked across the street since a hole had been made in their line. He stared up, shielding his eyes from the sun.

  He could see her arm holding the rifle before her head popped back into view.

  She shot again.

  "Lyssa?" Randy yelled.

  Her answer was another shot.

  Randy knew it was her. It had to be. What other person, especially a female, would be up there shooting zombies and attracting even more?

  He didn't know what to do now. Run down the block so he didn't get shot accidentally, or go back inside the store and hide?

  It was obvious she knew where he lived. Why hadn't she made her presence known? He desperately wanted to talk to her. Spend some time getting to know her.

  She was firing every fifteen seconds and the zombies near Randy were all down, but he could see plenty more coming from down the road in either direction.

  He looked up again and she was gone.

  "Lyssa? I want to talk to you," Randy yelled.

  He waited, keeping one eye on the roof and the other on the approaching undead.

  "I'm not moving from this spot until you talk to me. I'll let them rip me apart if that's what you want," Randy yelled. He knew he was being childish and his voice would attract not only more zombies but anyone alive in the area and he didn't care right now.

  He needed to see her.

  Her head appeared over the side again.

  Randy smiled and waved. It was definitely her, and, even from this distance, he could see how pretty she was.

  "Go inside and stay there until tomorrow morning," Lyssa said, just loud enough Randy could hear the words.

  "Why?"

  "Because I said so. I'll be back to get you. We need to talk," Lyssa said. "Get off the fucking street."

  Randy waved again.

  She disappeared.

  Randy, smiling, went back inside the store. He put the aisle shelving back in front of the doors and went to the stockroom, blocking the doors before sitting down on his broken plastic chair.

  Now, all he could do was wait for tomorrow.

  Chapter Seven

  Randy heard the tap on the door but he'd been sitting and staring at it for the last two hours and saw her shadow first.

  He peeked out and smiled when he saw Lyssa.

  "Come in," Randy said.

  She shook her head. "Nothing personal, but your new home isn't exactly what I had in mind. Come with me. Bring a gun."

  "I don't have one."

  Lyssa stared at him before grinning and turning away.

  Randy wanted to rush after her but needed to make sure the convenience store was secured before he followed.

  Lyssa was gone.

  Randy began to panic. What if she'd taken off again? What if this was some crazy game of hers? He looked up at the roofs. What if she was going up to kill him?

  He knew it was all nuts but you could never be sure. He'd been bur
ned by a woman before, right?

  The Mustang pulled around the corner and stopped in front of Randy.

  Lyssa rolled down the window and smiled. "Hop in."

  "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see. It's a surprise. Do you trust me?" Lyssa asked.

  Randy didn't know what the real answer was. "Of course I do," he told her because she was hot and he was lonely, and...

  He got in and she took off, speeding recklessly down the road.

  When a zombie stepped into her path, she sped up and clipped the zombie with the side of the car, laughing as she stared into the rearview mirror.

  "He went ten feet in the air," Lyssa said with a laugh.

  "Are we going far?" Randy asked. He gripped the door handle and kept pumping the imaginary brake on his side of the car, causing Lyssa to laugh.

  "We're not going too far. Just getting out of this shitty town for a few hours, unless you have something better to do. Are you nervous with my driving?"

  "Yes," Randy said and focused on calming down and not closing his eyes, despite the real fear of crashing and dying right now.

  They were on the highway in a few minutes, Lyssa hardly using the brake as she weaved in and out of abandoned cars and slammed the Mustang into a few zombies along the way.

  "Is hitting them necessary?" Randy asked.

  "Yes, I'm afraid so," Lyssa said and laughed again.

  Randy really liked the sound of her laugh. It was genuine and sweet, and he'd been lonely for too long. He wasn't getting his hopes up, but Lyssa was awesome to be around even if she was the epitome of dangerous.

  "I don't know why you're worried. It isn't like this is actually my car, or insurance won't cover the damage. Wait until you see all the abandoned cars I've used over the months and the wrecks they've become. Maybe someday, when I'm feeling bold and stupid, I'll see how far I can go with a crash. I'll see if I can total the car but walk away without a scratch. How fun would that be?" Lyssa asked.

  "That doesn't sound like fun at all," Randy said. She was even wilder than he thought. He was starting to second guess being alone with her now.

  Lyssa laughed as she sped up, just tapping another zombie at top speed. "You do know I'm kidding, right? If I wanted to die, I'd have already done it a million ways. You know what's easy? Getting yourself killed. The hardest thing about living in this world is staying alive. Maybe staying sane, too. It might be a tossup. What do you think?"

  "I think it is a tossup," Randy said. He looked at Lyssa and loved her profile. He also didn't want to see what was up ahead. If they died in a car crash, he wanted to be surprised at that point.

  She glanced over at Randy and smiled. Without paying attention to the road, she cut the wheel and Randy could see a bus, only inches from the car, whizz by.

  "I could probably drive this highway with my eyes closed," Lyssa said.

  "Come here often?"

  Lyssa laughed again. She wove in and out of abandoned vehicles on the road.

  Randy had to watch and marveled at her driving skills.

  "The first time coming this way was a bitch. Most of the cars you see on the highway were blocking me in. I had to get out, kill some zombies, and figure out how to push the cars off the road. Mostly in the snow. It was not fun. But it's been worth it, especially now that I have you here with me. I can't wait to show you," Lyssa said.

  "What are you going to show me?"

  "It's a surprise, silly. Where's the fun in that? I'm sure you'll be as amazed as I was when I first found it," Lyssa said.

  Randy could only nod and enjoy the ride... as much as it was possible, with all the speed and weaving going on. He didn't have time to ask any more questions as Lyssa slowed the vehicle down and drove between two ruined buses.

  They were suddenly in a suburban neighborhood, with torched houses on either side.

  Someone had spray-painted a warning about the block ahead being filled with zombies.

  "Should we be going this way?" Randy asked, pointing at the sign as they drove past.

  "We should. I wrote that, by the way." Lyssa stopped in front of another bus, this one blocking their path. "In case you were wondering, there's a bus company on the other side of this neighborhood. I got all the keys and moved the buses around to plug in the holes. This is the only road in and out of the development, and anywhere, between the houses, someone might've even thought about driving a car is now blocked off. I put up fencing and any obstacle I could find on my own, too."

  Lyssa got out of the car and Randy couldn't help take a peek at her ass.

  She turned around suddenly before closing the door and grinned when she caught where his eyes had gone. "You get in the driver's seat. I'm going to move the bus and you can pull in and park on the left. This is much easier with two people."

  Randy got behind the wheel just as the bus began to slide to the right. He noticed the body of the bus itself was on a rolling platform and the wheels weren't actually touching the ground. He'd need to ask her how she'd managed to get it up like that.

  He pulled the car into a spot and shut off the engine.

  Lyssa was at his window and opened the door. She put her hand out and Randy gave her the keys.

  "I hope you're hungry," she said and took him by the hand.

  The couple walked down the sidewalk like it was a typical spring day.

  Lyssa pointed at a house across the street. "The family who lived there was in a crazy amount of debt. You should see their bank books. I think he had a drinking problem, because I took twenty full bottles of hard liquor from their bar. Outside, behind their shed, was about a hundred empties. I think he was hiding them. I didn't break any. You never know when you'll need a bottle to hold water or something, right?"

  "You broke into every house on this block?" Randy asked.

  "Not just on this block. On all six blocks in this development. These are newer, expensive houses. The people who worked in big jobs in Harrisburg but didn't want to live with the commoners, in the older areas or in town, bought these houses. I bet if the internet still worked we could Google the addresses and find most of them in the million dollar range." Lyssa pointed to the next house as they walked.

  "The son smoked pot. A lot. I found so much rolling paper in his closet I thought he was selling it at first. But, going through his stuff, I found empty bags he hadn't gotten rid of yet. He just liked weed," Lyssa said.

  "You're putting together the neighbor's lives like a Peeping Tom. Going through their garbage and seeing what they were about," Randy said. He was uneasy knowing all this.

  "Don't get too excited. Mostly I went in and took the food and anything useful I could find. I figured, if I didn't, someone else eventually would. I wasn't going to leave anything for the animals at the warehouse back there. Eventually, they'd find it and torch the place. I enjoy it here. I come when I'm tired or upset and want a change. You can hear birds singing in the trees. No zombies are roaming the streets. There's just nature and my thoughts. I even toyed with cutting the lawns at one point but the noise would carry too much," Lyssa said.

  "Where did they all go?" Randy asked.

  Lyssa shrugged. "Who knows? Hopefully most of them got out; although, by the looks of their houses... if they left, they left in a hurry. There were a few zombies trapped in houses, and, if you look close enough, you can see the blood covering a few floors and doors. I choose to only see the beauty when I'm here. It's like a vast oasis I live in."

  "I don't understand why you don't just stay then," Randy said.

  Lyssa stopped at the corner house and smiled.

  "Here we are. Home sweet home."

  Chapter Eight

  Randy lit two candles in the living room and kept the blinds closed.

  When Lyssa walked in, a tray of cheese and crackers in her hand, she laughed. "Open the blinds and let the sunshine in. It's too nice of a day to hide in the dark. We do that way too much, right? We'll eat on the porch. It's so quiet around here and I can al
ready hear the birds singing," Lyssa said.

  Randy blew out the candles and took the tray from Lyssa.

  "I guess you want to save the candles, too," Randy said.

  Lyssa shook her head. "Actually, I have an upstairs hall closet filled with boxes of candles. The neighbor three houses down was probably one of those prepper lunatics. His garage was packed with supplies. I even have two generators here, too."

  "Why not just live in his house?" Randy asked.

  "I had to shoot him in the head and the living room was wrecked. It was easier for me to move the boxes a few at a time with a truck than clean his home." Lyssa opened the blinds, letting sunlight in.

  "I'll meet you outside," Randy said.

  "I'll go get us a few cold beers," Lyssa said. "I ran the generator last night and made some ice. I'm sure they're still cold enough."

  "At this point, warm beer is better than no beer," Randy said.

  He stepped out onto the porch and put the cheese and cracker tray on the table. He had no doubt everything was stale but he didn't care. It was still edible as far as he knew. What was the worst thing at this point? Die from food poisoning? How dumb would that be? Randy sat down on a cushioned chair and put his feet up on the rail.

  This is the life, he thought. A nice house, a pretty woman, good food and cold beer. What more could I ever want?

  Randy wanted this to be the reality and not the one outside the gates. Lyssa was hiding behind fences and walls that would eventually crumble and fall. One breach and a horde of zombies could enter, and she'd be feeling so safe in her cocoon she'd fail to see them until it was too late. What if the survivors in Harrisburg saw her leave and followed? With the weather turning warmer, they'd be on the move. Trying to scavenge for food. If anyone saw the abundance of homes and resources, just sitting here, they'd do anything to get their hands on it. Anything.

  "Here ya go," Lyssa said, and Randy jumped out of his seat.

  Lyssa almost dropped the beers she was laughing so hard.