Dead Highways: Origins by Richard Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

we won’t survive here for long if we don’t get some more food. That we can do something about.”
    Peaches smiled. “Look at you, suddenly taking charge. You have an energy drink for breakfast or something?”
    “I wish. Just stay here with grandma, and keep an eye on me from the window. K?”
    Peaches sighed. “Sure.”
    “Don’t look so miserable,” I said, “we’re still alive.”
    “Yeah, but what does that even mean anymore?”
    “I guess we’ll find out.”

Chapter 11
     
    From the first step outside, I sensed something in the air, and it wasn’t just the stench from the dumpster behind the building. It was more visceral than a smell, something electric and unnerving. There were cold whispers in the wind, deafening sounds of chaos in the silence. And warnings of terrible things to come.
    I walked steadily, building more strength with each step. Peaches had asked, what if I get infected? I had blown it off, but the thought sat on my mind like an anchor, weighing me down. What if I did become infected? What if I already was? Or what if I never did and I had to live the rest of my life in a world where there was a corpse around every corner. I wasn’t sure which I’d rather prefer.
    Live or die.
    Like I had told her, I guess I’d find out.
    I had always been an introvert, staying mostly indoors, escaping the harsh reality of the world outside by living inside fictional worlds. I told myself I didn’t need many people in my life. That I was independent. That I was just misunderstood. That I was okay with being alone. But now, with the world undergoing immediate and perhaps irreparable change, I was forced to reexamine everything I thought I knew about myself, with the conclusion unclear.
    I began to cross the road. I slowed down as I came upon the rear of the humvee. It was the color of sand. The gunner in the back was hunched over with his face out of sight and his right arm clutching the top of a high-caliber machine gun. A stream of large bullets hung from the left side of the gun. The sleeping gunner wore desert camo, a matching hard hat, and what looked to be a pair of safety goggles around his head. The back of his neck was the only part of his body exposed. I couldn’t imagine how badly he’d be sunburned after a full day in the Florida sun; even in March it could be unforgiving.
    I walked along the front of the vehicle. The engine droned on at a constant pace. The windows had a decent tint, but still I could see human shapes from within. Did I have the courage to look inside the cabin?
    Yes, I did.
    If this was going to be the new world, I’d either have to get used to it or find somewhere to hide. There were no other options. There were no good options. Take it or leave it. I’d have to learn to be brave one baby step at a time.
    The door was heavy but swung open rather easy.
    “What are you doing?” a voice yelled from far behind me.
    It was Peaches at the window in my room on the second floor of the bookstore. I frowned and held a silencing finger to my lips, and then turned my attention back to the humvee. Two soldiers were inside, dressed identical to the gunner except without the eye protection. Unfortunately for me, their heads weren’t down. They stared straight ahead like wax figures—eyes closed, mouths open, drool dripping down their chins. The driver still had his hands planted on the wheel. As I climbed up and reached over to feel around for keys on the other side, he suddenly slouched forward, trapping my arm between his upper chest and the steering column.
    I felt a sudden urge to scream like a little girl but held my breath. I had to remind myself these men weren’t dead, even if they looked like they could be. I slowly pulled my arm back out as though I was afraid of waking the driver, and as I did, a line of thick, ice-cold saliva oozed down onto my forearm.
    Now I screamed, fell backward to the pavement. I looked at my arm and felt a burning sensation rise in my