Forget The Zombies (Book 2): Forget Texas by R.J. Spears Read Free Book Online Page B

meant trouble. We only had so many seats on the truck and if we got swamped by refugees, there was a good chance we’d never make it out of there alive.
Freda crossed her arms and refused to answer.
“That settles it,” Joni said and climbed into the cab and shut the door.
“Everybody, get back on the truck,” I yelled and they all took that as a call to leave.
Freda left us no other choice as she sat in the road with arms crossed in obstinate defiance of logic and reason, refusing even to look at us at all. I shook my head and got into the truck and found Joni behind the wheel.
“You can drive this thing?” I asked not wanting to discuss what just happened.
“I can drive anything,” she said and hit the gas. Even though I was tempted to check the rearview mirror, I resisted the urge. I wondered if Carla looked?
     
We drove for good half hour in silence, the horrible sounds for the death and carnage of the camp echoing in our minds. Initially, we had no clear direction, other than north. Our only other decision was to stay off the interstate highways. Those would most likely be clogged with cars if our past experience was worth anything.
After nearly an hour on the road, we had seen almost no one as we traveled along. At least no one living. We did see a lone zombie on a number of occasions and small packs more than once. It seemed that there was some herd mentality going on deep down inside them. Whenever they could congregate, they would. It was when they were in these groups that they were at their deadliest, so we did our best to avoid the packs.
“Dallas should be coming up our right pretty soon,” Joni said.
“It’s your state,” I said. “You know it better than me.”
“I’m a transplant,” she said. “My husband’s company transferred us here from Poughkeepsie three years ago.”
“Oh,” was all I said. I was the real conversationist.
“I didn’t want the transfer, but what could you do in this economy? A job’s a golden commodity. You want to know the truth?” She paused for a moment, the wind whipping through her hair. “I hate this state.”
“Me, too.”
She laughed a little and then so did I. The tension of escaping the camp had weighed down on us like a boulder. A little of it lifted, but our night was far from over.
“Thanks for what you did back there,” she said. “You saved a lot of lives, you know.”
I just shrugged, then said, “I didn’t expect what you did with Freda.”
“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “We had just lost Mack. Bill was dead. Hundreds of refugees were dying behind us and she just couldn’t get past it. I couldn’t take losing someone else because of her stupidity, but I hated leaving her there. I considered busting her upside the head and dragging her back onto the truck, but we’d face it again.”
“Most likely,” I said.
We drove in silence for another few minutes and I closed my eyes, just resting them. I let myself drift down to a lower state of consciousness for a few minutes and I found myself in a dream. In it, I was in a forest. Initially it was very serene with birds chirping and animals walking about, unafraid of my presence. My soul seemed at peace as I walked along. The forest reminded me of the ones I had roamed in as a kid in northern Wisconsin, thick with tall and lush pines. The rich smell of the pine needles permeated the air, fresh and clean. I made my way deeper into the woods, but as I did, I noticed that animals seemed to be more aware of me, and maybe even afraid. The blue sky above me slowly shifted from blue to dark gray. The animals transitioned from wary to something more sinister as if they may be stalking me. Their eyes burned like embers in the shadows and their teeth shone in a predatory way. The fecund sent of the pines was replaced by something that put me on edge. It smelled like wood smoke. The animals started slowly moving out of the shadows. Hunks of their skin and fur were missing and their