Dying Days: Origins 2 Read online

  "Sure. My pleasure." Cheryl put one of her Kimber 45's against Albert's head. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Depending on your answer, you'll live or die. Do you understand?"

  "Piss off," Albert said through gritted teeth. "I'll never talk to you, bitch."

  "He's still feisty. This is going to be fun for you," David said.

  Cheryl nodded and then smacked Albert in the face with her pistol. "I don't want to torture you just to do it. I want you to answer my questions so we can all go home. Isn't that what you want? To see your family again?"

  "Just shoot me, you asshole," Albert said. "I'll be dead regardless. My legs are going to bleed out and I'll die soon enough. But I'm not telling you anything, so you might as well shoot me in the head."

  Cheryl lowered the pistol and aimed at his crotch. "I'd much rather shoot parts of you off and leave you for the zombies. And once you die maybe you'll come back as one. Then I can find you and shoot you in the head."

  Albert didn't say a word but tears rolled down his cheeks from the pain.

  "What do you think?" Cheryl asked David.

  "I'm not sure. Is it crueler to let him live and eventually die in excruciating pain in the middle of a corn field? Or better to end his misery? Your call."

  "Bullshit. Don't put this on me," Cheryl said. "You make the call."

  Cheryl turned back to Albert. "Where did Chris and Jean go?"

  Albert grinned. "I'm surprised you didn't find their car back on the road. I made sure to kill Chris last, so he could watch us put bullets in the little girl's heads."

  Cheryl pulled the trigger and put a bullet through Albert's miserable brain.

  Chapter Twelve

  Neither David nor Cheryl said another word as they went through the pickup truck, gathering all the weapons and ammo they could find. A flask was stuck between the seats. David smelled it. Whiskey. They could use it in the future. You never threw anything away unless you had to. Alcohol had quite a few uses.

  It wasn't much but it gave the couple something to do.

  As they began the walk back to their vehicle, keeping just inside the corn field and watching for further pursuit, Cheryl finally broke the silence. "Do you think he was bluffing?"

  "We can only hope so. Regardless, we need to find Chris. If they're alive, they'll circle back and find us. If they aren't… we'll find them," Chris said. "I'm going to also assume we haven't seen the last of the militia. We might need to run as far as we can to get away, so if Chris is driving around he'll find us pretty soon."

  It was a morbid thought, but David knew if the family was dead he hoped they found them quickly so they didn't waste any time. And, if they found the car, they'd have to be careful. If the militia was even half smart, they'd set someone to watch, knowing David and Cheryl would be looking for them.

  "Maybe they ran Albert off the road and kept going?" Cheryl asked, but David knew from the tone of her words she didn't believe it for one second. No way could Chris put them in a ditch. The guy just didn't have it in him. More than likely the pickup truck's driver took the turn too hard, or a zombie spooked him. Something else to explain their predicament.

  "We'll do a thorough search of the area," David said as they got back to their vehicle. "Hopefully we'll find them before the militia does."

  "Chris knows to go south, right?"

  David nodded as he climbed into the driver's seat. "It's the way we're heading. Now I wish we'd taken the time to pick a destination on the map. A meeting point in case something like this happened. My only hope is they are familiar with Iowa and the states south of us."

  Cheryl pulled out her tablet as David began driving. "We can head directly south and get into Missouri, or veer to the east and into Illinois."

  "Missouri into Tennessee into Georgia would be the easiest route for Florida. I just hope Chris knows it." David drove past the ditched pickup truck and made a right between the two fields. He decided to circle the area until first light or trouble found them. "We still have gas in reserve."

  "I thought we were out. That's why we stopped," Cheryl said.

  David shook his head. "There's more in cans for a dire emergency. Like being stuck in a corn field hell. I didn't want us dipping into them with both cars, since it would take us half the distance. It's only a few gallons. The gas station would've been the perfect place to refuel."

  "It still might be."

  David shook his head. "Too risky. I'm sure not every militia man or woman is riding around the county in search of us. Some will stay behind, and probably hide up near the gas station and main road in the event we return."

  "True."

  David took a random turn at the next intersection, putting them back on asphalt. He drove until he hit the next intersection, a split in the road. When it was obvious Cheryl wasn't going to give an opinion for right or left, he went right.

  He slowed when a man stepped out of the corn field to his left. A zombie, bloody shirt and red eyes caught in the headlights before David drove past.

  Another hundred feet and two more, attracted by the engine or light of the vehicle, appeared. And then four more.

  They weren't in danger of being attacked but David didn't want to think of a mass of zombies getting in their way. All it would take for them to get slowed down was to hit a zombie who got caught under the tire or between the tire and the truck and slow them down enough for them to be surrounded.

  At the next intersection, he floored it to escape a cluster of zombies coming from the fields. Now he was just driving in circles, crisscrossing random roads in search of Chris and his family. He had no real clue where they could've gotten to at this point.

  "This is getting a little hairy," Cheryl said. "I think the mass of zombies heading south has arrived."

  "I'm going to get us out of here. Give me an idea where we need to go to leave," David said. "We'll try for a main road heading south and hope to catch up to them." He left unsaid what they were both thinking: the Everson family was already dead.

  "There's a Route 63 close. It will take us into Missouri," Cheryl said. "From there we can get to Route 136 and head southeast and into Illinois. Hopefully we can keep ahead of the zombies. We wasted a day with the militia." She glanced over her shoulder. "Hopefully we've seen the last of them."

  "Just tell me where I'm going," David said.

  They drove for three miles, away from the farm and, most likely, the Everson family, and saw more and more zombies. None of them were close enough or fast enough to get near the Raptor. But it made driving a bit tricky for David.

  Route 63 was a main highway and David stopped and stared at the signs. North and south. If they went north, could they make it all the way to Canada and their sanctuary? Would they be driving right into the zombie horde?

  "What's the matter?" Cheryl asked.

  "We're at a crossroads," David said, realizing he was making a joke. He pointed at the signs. "Which way will take us to safety? Which section of highway will take us to where we need to go?"

  Cheryl looked both ways. "I see zombies heading in our direction. And they're all coming from the north. Have you noticed that? The only time they veer off is when they see us. Otherwise, they are going south. But we have the advantage because we're driving. If we go north, we'll be in trouble, I think."

  "Do you trust me?"

  Cheryl smiled. "With all my heart."

  "How warm do you think the water is around St. Augustine this time of year?"

  Cheryl laughed. "I think it's probably just right."

  David turned south and hoped they could find a gas station.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They were six miles out of Kahoka, just over the border south and into Missouri, when they saw the military convoy heading north on Route 136.

  David counted thirty-three vehicles, packed with soldiers and weaponry. These weren't National Guard, either. This had to be a nearby military base mobilizing. He didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

/>   He looked at the GPS on the dashboard. "We need to stay out of major cities, like St. Louis, Memphis or Nashville. Stick to the back roads and smaller places so we don't get caught in traffic jams or where the zombies have already struck and swelled their masses."

  They'd used the last of the reserve fuel from the gas cans and were running on fumes.

  "We really need to find gas. The next abandoned car we see, we'll stop. Hopefully men with guns won't try to stop us," David said.

  The first rays of a new day were lighting the sky and as they drove for a few miles cars appeared driving on the road.

  "There's a small town ahead," Cheryl said. "Maybe they have a gas station."

  When they pulled into town, David frowned. It was a main street and the gas station was open, as well as the diner next door. People were coming and going this early in the morning, going about their business. As if nothing was happening.

  "This is like a Twilight Zone episode," Cheryl said and patted her Kimber 45's on her sides. "I'm not going to miss this place when we leave."

  "We need to gas up and get out," David said. He pulled the Raptor next to a pump. "I'll fill it. Run inside with your credit card and see how much you can buy. Shop smartly."

  Cheryl smiled. "Whenever you say something forceful yet stupid I know what you want. Twix or Snickers?"

  David shrugged. "It's the end of the world. Can't I have both?"

  Cheryl laughed and went to walk away.

  "Uh, Annie Oakley… you might want to leave your six-shooters in the truck," David said. "I think for a few minutes we're safe."

  As Cheryl put her pistols back in the Raptor, David began pumping gas and looking around. There were no zombies and nothing out of place. Just another lazy day in a small town in the northern part of Missouri. It was really odd, considering the last few days they'd had.

  A family pulled up at the pump next to David and the father stepped out with a smile and nod.

  "Have you heard the news?" David asked.

  "About the trouble in Iowa and farther north? Yeah. Crazy, right?" the man said.

  "It's heading this way. You should pack up your family and head south."

  The man shrugged. "The governor says they'll never reach our borders. He sent out the National Guard and emptied every military base in Missouri to set up a perimeter. No way are these terrorists getting into Mo."

  "They aren't terrorists," David said. "They're zombies."

  The man snickered. "Buddy, you been watching too many bad horror movies. We're being invaded by the damn towel-heads. But they don't have the weapons or numbers we have. We'll be just fine right here. Taking the kids up to the fair. Starts today. Nothing better than cotton candy and a pound of ribs sticking to your stomach."

  David stared at him, unable to comprehend this man's attitude.

  The man looked over the Raptor and smiled. "You one of them storm chaser guys we watch on television?"

  David shook his head. This man was going to die and his family as well.

  "Well, enjoy your day. I know I will." The man walked back to his car.

  "Idiot," David mumbled and turned back to his gas. He wasn't going to argue with the man, and, if he got loud, there was no telling what would happen. He was a stranger, wearing camouflage fatigues and driving a vehicle out of a Mad Max film.

  By the time David had filled the Raptor, Cheryl was out of the gas station carrying four plastic bags filled with items.

  "Did you buy out the store?"

  Cheryl nodded. "You never know when you'll see chocolate donuts again. Or banana bread slices. I grabbed whatever I thought we could use and stuff I'll miss at some point."

  "I can't argue with your logic. I hope you got plenty of candy bars for me."

  "For us," Cheryl said. She stared out the window as David started the vehicle. "How bad would it be if I said I wanted maybe my last piece of French toast before we run too far away?"

  David was about to say no, they needed to keep moving, but his stomach was growling. He pulled in front of the diner and shut off the engine. "You buying?"

  Cheryl waved her credit card. "Until we run out of money or the credit card machines go down."

  "I'm going to get pancakes and a gallon of coffee to go," David said. "And wash up in a real bathroom again."

  "I need to change, too. I feel gross. But first… pancakes."

  "I thought you said French toast," David said as they exited.

  "A woman can change her mind. But I think I'll get both and splurge."

  He pulled up in an empty parking spot in front of the diner and tucked one of Cheryl's Kimber 45's into his holster on his side and under his shirt. Cheryl placed the other one in her purse, which she only carried when she needed to conceal a weapon. And for her lipstick.

  The hostess, a young girl with a big smile, seated them at a booth near the window, which was perfect. David had initially thought to park the Raptor behind the diner, but if they needed to escape quickly he didn't want to have to fight through a crowd to get to the vehicle.

  Besides, they are only innocent people eating breakfast, David thought. In another day or two this will all end for them. They don't believe what's on the news. He didn't blame them, either. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would have second-guessed leaving their home.

  David knew they had no home to return to. He didn’t say a word to Cheryl, just smiled as the waitress came over and they ordered coffee.

  "I'm ordering a bunch of food," Cheryl said. "I'm serious."

  "I don't blame you. I say we order four or five meals and eat as much as we want. Who cares about gaining weight or diabetes or anything else? We live for today," David said. "I'm also ordering a side of grits and buttered toast."

  "I married such a rebel."

  "Get used to it. I might even ask for a second helping of bacon, too." They were laughing when the waitress came back with their coffee.

  Cheryl pointed at the menu. "I'm starving. I'll have a western omelet, stack of pancakes, French toast and everything that comes with them."

  The waitress hesitated for a second before smiling, writing it all down, and turning to David.

  "I'll have the same but add a side of grits, extra bacon and sausage links. Oh, and a big stack of white toast," David said and winked at Cheryl. "I guess all that exercise and watching what we eat is out the window today."

  "It won't kill us," Cheryl said. "I'm sure at some point in the near future we'll be wishing we had a diner to sit down in and order breakfast."

  "I guess you're right." David finished off his coffee and poured another cup from the carafe the waitress had left on the table. "I am going to miss coffee."

  Cheryl started laughing.

  "What's so funny?"

  "I'm just thinking about the pallet of coffee you bought for the bunker. No one will ever find it." Cheryl stopped smiling. "Thousands of dollars over the years, and it was all a waste."

  "You're wrong. Someday, when all of this blows over, we'll go back and live out our lives in peace. While the rest of the world is trying to rebuild, we'll be able to act like nothing happened."

  The rumble of large trucks came from outside and the couple turned to see another convoy of military vehicles heading in the direction they'd come from.

  David wondered how close the enemy was right now. He was about to make a comment when he saw the three men, wearing camouflage pants and faded dirty baseball caps, standing around the Raptor.

  "Great." David looked for the waitress but he didn't see her. "Get our order to go. And I want some bagels if they got 'em, too."

  "I'm coming with you."

  David shook his head. "Watch me. If I'm in trouble, come out shooting. I'm serious. We don't have time for this shit, and I'm hoping it isn't the militia catching up to us already. We should've kept driving."

  Cheryl shook her head. "I want French toast."

  David had to laugh as he rose from the booth, put on his sunglasses and dropped a scowl
on his face before leaving the diner.

  Chapter Fourteen

  One of the men had his hand on the door, trying to open the Raptor, which was locked.

  "Can I help you?" David asked, putting all three men in front of him and at a safe distance. He might not be able to shoot all three but he could kill two and hope the other chickened out.

  "This your sweet ride?" the one touching the Raptor asked.

  David nodded but said nothing. When one of the men took two steps to his left, David took a step back and to his left. All three men exchanged glances.

  "Minnesota plates. You on vacation?" the leader asked.

  "Something like that. Is there a point to this conversation? Just making small talk or do you need something?" David asked.

  "What would you have to offer me?" the man asked and glanced at his two partners.

  "A hospital stay, for starters. I'm not here to play games, kids. So do me a favor and step away from the Raptor and get in your pickup truck or your bicycles or whatever you rode in on and leave. I'm not going to play this game. I don't have time."

  Another dozen military vehicles blew past on the road and all four men watched them go by.

  "Where do you think they're going?" the leader snickered. "Maybe all the way to Minnesota?"

  "There is no more Minnesota. It's been overrun. You should go home and watch the news. Pack your truck and head south, in fact. A whole shit-storm of trouble is heading this way."

  "Is that a threat?" another of them asked.

  David shook his head. "I'm not here for trouble. I want to leave in peace before the bad stuff comes down on wherever it is we are."

  "I think he's bluffing," the third guy said. David knew they were itching for a fight.

  Two of the men looked at the door to the diner at the same time and David guessed Cheryl had joined them and had her Kimber 45 in hand.

  The leader put a hand on his side and David did the same, only faster. "I wouldn't make that mistake in the parking lot," David said. "One last time: I don't want any trouble and neither does my wife. But I will shoot you and leave you for dead if I have to." David made eye contact with each man in turn. "And I can draw my weapon faster than two of you. My wife can kill the third. But we don't want to."