Darius is a former high school literary and feature writer that loves reading books, listening to music, and watching movies.
After paving through the woods, dodging every other one of those "things" they could hear, "feel," see, encounter, or even having to decide to kill some of them swiftly and quietly, the trio went to the spot where they hide their only transportation - an old, run-down, rusty, ick-faced, almost silver-colored, greyish van.
It has chainmail on every window and strong fiberglass with metal bars installed in the front, perfect for repelling anything organic objects they might hit on the road. Jeff drives it, Vee sits next to him, and Henry sits at the back where he takes care of the loot they have gathered and their other weapons. Jeff started the car, clicking and coughing before finally driving off.
"What items do we got from there?" Jeff asked from the driver's seat.
"Three cans of pork and beans; two full loaves of old bread; other canned foods that who knows what they have inside; three liters of bottled water; some ketchup, and mustard," Henry said. "A double-barrel shotgun without any ammo box or ammo shells, this crowbar, and this locket," he raised above his head, "that you made me kept."
Vee sits in front in silence, tying and fixing her red hair while keeping eyes on the dark, dusty road.
"Not so much, but it'll do," Jeff said.
"Yeah, but it won't be enough for the rest of us back at Elgerton," Henry replied.
"The others might have found more, so we just need to hang on tight for a bit more," Jeff said, brushing his thin mustache. He took a silent, swift turn on the right of a stagnant, old oak tree with red marking painted on its trunk. It's one of their "checkpoints."
"Eyes ahead," Vee said to Jeff.
"I can see it." He replied. He veered their van to the left just a little, just enough to not hit one of "them" walking so slowly in the middle of the murky road. It even tried to follow them, but they can't get much faster than their pace."
"O-oh my..." Vee covered her mouth in shock as she witnesses a huge herd, or even more appropriate, a horde of Zs.
"There's too many of them," Henry whispered, he readies their weapons behind him, just in case.
"There's another route to Elgerton, a longer route and quite dangerous. We have to avoid this horde, so we have no choice." Jeff said to them. He operates the van to start and quietly drives away from the coming horde. Fifteen minutes later, he took a swift turn to the right from a post sigh saying "Hellia County" and drove straight.
"A county, huh. I haven't heard of such." Henry scoffed. "Why didn't we know this?" He looked at Vee and then looked at Jeff.
"This county's not fit for looting any resources or food or weapons. It's too hostile. We knew it when we tried, with the help of other people from Elgerton, a few weeks ago. But..." he didn't continue what he was about to say. The two somehow knew what happened.
An hour has passed, it must be two in the morning, although they have no concept of time or any device that could tell the time. All they have is the sun, the moon, and the stars, and they're not helping because they don't know how to read time using celestial bodies.
Without any Zs in their sight during their drive, they could almost see most of the residential buildings from afar. All seemed to be running smoothly and quietly, without any hindrance — yet.
Vee, consumed by her curiosity, started opening her mouth again while constantly brushing her red hair. "So, this Hellia County, how come you never told us the reasons ab—"
They heard a loud pop; a tire in front exploded. The van almost stumbled as it loses its control.
"What was that!?" Henry shouted in shock.
They heard another loud pop, and another tire got broken down. Jeff couldn't keep his arms in the wheel anymore longer. He raised up his leg and stepped on the breaks as hard as he can.
"F*ck! Hold on, everyone!" Jeff shouted as he loses his control over the van.
The van screeched like a banshee screaming in the night, zigging and zagging on a wide, asphalt road, creating tire marks on the flat ground, until its front smashes on the side of a broken down residential house hitting most pieces of furniture from its living room and its kitchen.
A loud, echoing, continuous honk can be heard miles away.
To be continued...
© 2019 Darius Razzle Paciente