Day 40
Jessie nudged John awake with her boot. He'd crashed out under one of the benches, taking a late nap. His goal was to sleep for a few hours and then stay up as long as possible. Another night bent like a pretzel in the truck was going to kill him.
“Time to take watch,” she said. “I’ll drive.”
They’d worked up a perimeter of three miles in either direction on the highway. Two trucks each, four men or women. A small group was camped half a mile into the scrub and trees on either side, too.
Since yesterday afternoon, nearly three dozen more stragglers had arrived, some with food and water but most with only the tattered shirts on their backs.
John had stopped trying to get to know names. He just kept waving and smiling if anyone caught his eye.
Jessie had disappeared, which John was grateful for. He had a really bad vibe from her lately. The last thing he wanted to do was share a shift with her.
They didn’t speak as they rode down the highway, Jessie driving.
She got out and leaned against the front of the pickup, rifle over her shoulder.
John joined her. It was too hot in the cab of the vehicle. It would be dark soon.
“You wanna talk about it?” Jessie asked.
“Talk about what?”
Jessie laughed. “The fact you’re a pussy. Stick close to me, dude, or you’ll last another few days at most. I see the way you’re looking at everyone, like you want to be best friends. Has it even occurred to you at least one of them is thinking of gutting you in your sleep and taking your shit?”
“I’m not as negative as you are,” John said. “Obviously.”
“Naïve. If I had a chance I’d kill all of them, take their shit and be on my way.” Jessie shrugged. “But right now we need the numbers. Gotta keep building it up until we have so many I can slip in and out of the groups without anyone noticing. Start making my escape plan. Build my bug out bag. You know what that is?”
“You being selfish,” John said.
Jessie shrugged. “Me staying alive. It’s not negative. It’s realistic. You’re too soft, Murphy. No idea what’s really out there waiting for us. It’s like being in a zombie book without the zombies?” Jessie chuckled. “Have you ever read a good zombie book?”
“I doubt there is a good one.”
“I’ve been reading them for ages. Getting some ideas together in case that’s how the world ends.” Jessie yawned. “It’s the same principle whether you have people turning into zombies or just trying to take what’s still available.”
“Again…very negative.”
“Be that as it may, John, I’m more prepared than you’ll ever be. When we get back to camp I’ll loan you the first book in a couple of series.”
John waved his hand. “No thanks. I’m not much of a reader, especially zombie fiction garbage.”
“This’ll be research,” Jessie said. “Zombie Fallout and Dying Days. Both great series. You need to check them out. Seriously.”
“I guess it never occurred to you that the guy who wrote them is dead now? No more zombie books to read,” John said.
Jessie held up two fingers. “Two different writers. Different series. Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”
John didn’t answer.
Two motorcycles appeared on the horizon, their engines heard a second before they appeared.
Jessie had her rifle out and was smiling. “Which one should I shoot first, the bitch on the right or the asshole on the left?”
“Neither. Jesus Christ.” John put a hand up to push her rifle away but she held firm.
“You don’t tell me what to do.” Jessie licked her lips. “I’ll wound one of them. Knock her off her bike. I don’t need another woman in camp vying for your affection, John Murphy.”
John groaned.
Jessie laughed. “I’m messing with you. Relax. You’re not my type. I’m not into men, sorry to disappoint. A penis ain’t my thing, Johnny Boy.”
“Don’t shoot,” John said. “They might be friendly. Lost. Hungry.”
“I’ve always wanted my own motorcycle, and this is an easy way to get one.”
John had his rifle out and used the scope to get a better look at the pair headed their way, the sun dropping down but giving him enough light to see them.
To see Darlene…
“Wait, I know her, don’t shoot,” John said.
“Too late. She’s dead.”
John rushed Jessie, knocking her down just as she pulled the trigger. She was going to kill Darlene.
Before Jessie could get her bearings, trying to rise and use the rifle to club John, he tripped her back to the ground and dropped onto her arm, pinning her to the ground.
The two motorcycles had stopped and John waved his hands, dropping his weapon as a shot missed his head by inches.
John was screaming, knowing they wouldn’t be able to hear him.
Darlene is going to shoot me because of this idiot, John thought. He stood, yanking the rifle from Jessie and tossing it as far as he could, hoping Darlene would see the move and recognize him.
“What are you doing? We don’t need anyone else,” Jessie yelled. “Too many mouths to feed. Let me kill the guy, then. You don’t know him, do you?”
“Shut up. You’re going to get us killed.” John had his hands up and was walking slowly toward the bikes, not headed right at them.
Please, Darlene, recognize me. I’m dirtier and scruffy but it’s still me…John, who you weren’t a fan of, John thought, suddenly realizing he’d been a real jerk to her and now she might get the chance to end him.
He heard the gunshot and saw the flash and thought he’d been wrong. All so very wrong. Darlene had her rifle out as she rode one-handed and fired at him.
John fell to the ground, expecting to feel the pain. The burn as the bullet lodged in his body.
Jessie fell on top of John.
Bloody, eyes already glazing over, the rifle crashing against John’s legs.
The blood was in his eyes. Hot against his face.
“Get up slowly, John,” Darlene yelled.
John cleared his eyes and got onto one knee, hands raised. Staring at the dead Jessie.
“Do you really know this guy?” The man on the other bike was aiming at John, ready to put a bullet in his head.
Darlene nodded. “Your girlfriend tried to shoot us as you drew us in. Did you not know it was me?”
John wiped the blood from his lips and nose, the stench of it turning his stomach. “I told her I knew you. Told Jessie not to shoot.”
“She didn’t listen too well,” Darlene said, turning the Harley off and getting off, stretching. “Sorry about killing your girlfriend.”
“She’s a lesbian,” John blurted. He noticed the guy was still pointing his weapon. “Tell your boyfriend to either shoot me or put down his gun.”
Darlene laughed. “Mitch? He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I’m also a lesbian,” Mitch said and finally lowered his weapon.