Pathogen - Chapter 14

Vernon was already underway when Cliff and Aaron caught up to the car. Aaron ran around the back of the car to get to the front passenger seat while Cliff struggled to get into the back. Steve had left their supplies right in his leg room. Slamming the door shut in the face of the zombies inching ever closer, Cliff knew he could resolve his cramped quarters a bit later.

Thus awkwardly situated, Grace threw Vernon into gear and sped off into the fog. “Well, that was a party and a half,” she remarked as she drove ahead.

“Tell me about it,” Aaron said, oblivious to his driver’s sarcasm, “Did you see me out there? I was all ‘BLAM! BLAM!’ and the zombies were dropping like flies!”

“Didn’t you say you were out of bullets?” Grace asked, “What are you going to do now, tough guy?” Aaron fell silent, deflated. Grace asked another question, this time directed at Steve, “Will my bullets fit in his gun?”

“If you manage to squeeze them in there, and I’m not sure how you would,” Steve started to explain, “Best case scenario, the gun jams. Worst case scenario, it blows up in your hands.”

“What a gyp,” Aaron complained, “In video games, all you have to do is walk over a dead guy’s gun, or a box of bullets. It doesn’t matter what kind they are, they all fit into your guns.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Steve laid into Aaron with sarcasm so thick he could cut it with a knife, “This is actually a video game. Golly gee, maybe we should get your old pal Steve an extra life before he runs out of continues.”

The car fell silent, save for the humming of the engine. Everyone tried at once to look away. Steve stared morosely out the window. He’d upset himself with his own callow remark. With a sigh, he wished he was just in a video game. Then at least he could slam a few more quarters into the machine and everything would be okay. As it was, the timer was ticking down and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

“Steve,” Cliff broke the silence, “We’ll find a way to help you.”

“There’s no cure for what I’ve got,” Steve murmured, “Don’t you watch the movies?”

The car was silent a few more moments before Cliff broached, “I think I’ve got a couple shells left.”

Turning to regard his friend, Steve saw that Cliff was deathly serious. From the look of hurt on his face, Steve could tell that the implication pained him greatly. Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Lighten up, would you?” Steve begged between fits of laughter. Laughing hurt, which made the situation funnier to him, “You don’t have to go all Old Yeller on me. I’ll see you guys off at Breakwater Point, then probably head back to the mainland or something.”

Having a goal comforted Steve somewhat, even if the destination was going to depress the hell out of him. Maybe he’d be so far along at that point that it wouldn’t matter to him any more.

“Who’s Old Yeller?” Aaron asked.

Grace took her eyes off the road for only a second to give her friend a look that screamed, “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you know your American cinema history?” A second was exactly long enough for disaster to ensue. Through the fog, the outline of a zombie appeared. Noticing it too late to do anything about it, Grace still attempted to swerve out of the way. Vernon slammed into the body, dragging it under the car. The front right tire blew as it rolled over the body and the axle snapped as the car slammed hard into the ground. Now spinning out of control, Vernon came to a screaming halt when its side ploughed into a telephone pole.

When the dust settled, Steve was the first to speak up. “Did anybody else feel that, or was it just me?” Steve shouted over the ringing in his ears.

Grace held her head where it had bounced off the now shattered window. “Why didn’t the airbag go off?” she complained.

“Really?” Aaron spoke up, “That’s what you take exception to?”

Cliff wrenched open his door and crawled outside to get a better look. A quick glance told him that Vernon was out of commission. The passenger side had practically wrapped itself around the pole. Reaching back inside, Cliff wrestled with the cart of supplies and helped Steve out.

Steve dusted himself off and surveyed the scene. “Wow,” he remarked, “You guys are lucky to be alive.”

“What about you?” Cliff asked.

“It probably would’ve been better if I died in the crash,” Steve shrugged.

Aaron had managed to get his door open now, and was helping Grace climb across the front. Her door was obstructed by the telephone pole. Cliff looked up at the askew pole. They were very fortunate not to have downed any lines.

“Now what?” Grace asked, coughing.

“I think we better book it,” Cliff declared, “Those zombies are probably still on our heels.”

“Good plan,” Aaron agreed, “Let’s keep following the road here.”

“Hold up,” Steve interrupted as he turned to get his bearings, “Weren’t the zombies going down this road before?”

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

“Before we started running, back when we were hiding out,” Steve recalled, “They were going down this way. I bet they heard the crash and are coming back around now.”

“What should we do?” Cliff asked.

“We’re going to Breakwater Point, right?” Steve asked as he pointed off to the side, “The water’s that way.”

Turning to see where his friend was pointing, Cliff thought for a moment. “We should head that way,” he decided, “We should only be a few blocks from the ocean.”

Grace had retrieved the rifle from the car and was reloading it from the bullets in her pocket when she chimed in, “Do you think we have enough supplies?”

Aaron  hefted the grocery cart. “I think we’re good on food,” he assessed, “But I know I’d be happier if I had more bullets.”

“I don’t think we have time,” Cliff shook his head, “Right now we’re sandwiched between two groups of zombies, and our car is busted. We need to get out of here while we still can.”

The four friends exchanged a look with each other. Together they nodded. Although they had reservations about the plan, it was the only thing that made sense at the moment. Cliff, Aaron, and Grace set off towards the ocean while Steve lingered a moment by the car.

“Hey, Cliff,” he called out.

Cliff stopped to turn. “What?” he asked.

Steve reached into the car and pulled Cliff’s shotgun out from the backseat. “You’ve got to keep a better eye on your stuff,” he chuckled.