Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage (11 page)

Once Peaches finished feeding Olivia, we started throwing.

“Six each,” she said. “What are we aiming for?”

“Um … how about that dumpster?”

“I don’t know. That’s pretty far away.”

The dumpster was on the far end of the lot, surrounded by a concrete wall and fenced off in the front so no one could go diving.

“You might be able to hit it,” I said.

“I know I can. I’m worried about you.”

I laughed. “Good one.”

I threw first, starting with three of my six bottles for warm-up. Two of the three hit the dumpster, while the third landed just in front, shattering into many large chunks of glass. The wine inside splattered out in all directions.

“Not bad,” Peaches said. “Here, let me try. Take Olivia.”

Peaches stood ten paces back from where I had stood and achieved similar results through her first three throws.

But would I let her outdo me?

Hell no!

Now she’d see what I was really made of.

After my final throws, it was clear that what I was made of was sugar and spice and everything nice. Not a single bottle hit the target. Not one. Nada.

Stupid, scrawny arms.

I felt dejected. More so, after Peaches hit the dumpster two out of her last three throws from the furthest point yet.

“I guess that settles it,” I said. “You’re throwing.”

“I had good reason to be worried about you.”

I smiled. “Showoff.”

“Where should we tie the rags … on the neck, right?” Peaches asked.

“Try tying them on the lower end of the bottle. That way you can grab a hold of the neck to throw.”

“Oh, good thinking.”

The rags were just large enough to fit snuggly around the base. When we were finished tying them off, I went into the 7 Eleven to get a grill lighter and a bottle of lighter fluid. I stuck both into the box with the eight Molotov cocktails.

“Is that it?”

I set the box into the backseat of the SUV next to the rest of our supplies. “I think so. Now we just need a plan.”

“I thought you had a plan.”

Ten minutes later, we were in position. I parked the SUV in roughly the same spot as I had before, across from the retention pond. Moments earlier, I had dropped Peaches off closer to the building, behind a red sedan on the outer edge of the Walgreens parking lot. The car would give her some cover while she tossed the bottles.

I grabbed two full magazines, popped one into the rifle, and stuck the other one in my pocket. Then I climbed on to the hood of the car and shouldered the rifle. I could see Peaches poke her head up over the top of the red sedan, waiting for my signal. Below me, inside the SUV, I could hear Olivia start to cry. She probably needed to be changed, but that would have to wait. We had work to do first.

We’d hit the horde of infected from both sides, with fire and with bullets, simultaneously. If that didn’t get their attention, nothing would.

I pointed the rifle up at the darkening sky and fired one shot.

It was the signal.

Right on point, Peaches threw the first of the eight Molotov cocktails. The glass bottle sailed through the sky, end over end, the attached rag burning gloriously, and crashed to the ground right in front of the outer layer of infected. A perfect throw, if I ever saw one. This chick was amazing. As the glass broke, gasoline sprayed out in all directions, ignited by the burning rag, creating multiple strips of fire that instantly engulfed numerous infected. Without pause, they did what anyone would do when on fire. They freaked out. And the best part was, the others around them began to freak out too, especially after another bottle crashed nearby, producing a rolling wave of hot, orange flames.

I opened fire. I didn’t aim at any specific target, just the group as a whole. In a matter of seconds, I’d emptied half of the magazine, successfully wounding at least five infected. Unlike last time, none peeled off from the group and ran my way. They were blind to me, more concerned with the growing flames. Those that had caught fire shambled madly off into the crowd, spreading the fire to many others. I continued shooting, finishing off the first magazine, while Peaches continued hurling our homemade grenades over the red car, adding more fire to an already fiery lot.

Slowly, the crowd began to disperse. Peaches did a great job throwing the cocktails in different locations to spread the fire as wide as possible. I lost count as to how many she’d thrown. I kept shooting, taking closer aim now that the infected weren’t packed in so tight. Overhead, the blue sky was fading to black. Nightfall was upon us, making the flaming bottles an even more remarkable sight. They coasted through the air, falling like tiny meteorites to the ground, releasing liquid death upon all near the area of impact.

With the first magazine empty, I snatched the second from my pocket, popped it into the rifle, and began shooting again. A dozen rounds later, I lowered the rifle. There was no point in blowing my load too fast, especially since it was having less of an effect now that the large crowd had begun to thin out—those that were still alive, anyway. Dozens of bodies lay on the ground, a few still burning.

Peaches stopped throwing cocktails and began yelling my name. It was too dark out now to spot her hiding behind the red car, but I had no problem seeing the man on fire lumbering toward her position. Three more infected immediately followed him. Then four more.

I hurried down from the hood of the SUV and jumped into the driver’s seat, hoping Peaches remembered the plan.

The SUV’s auto headlights came on and I was off, spinning around the corner of Lee Vista back on to Narcoossee Road. I had told Peaches if she got into trouble to make for the center of Narcoossee. As I rolled past the Walgreens on the left, more and more infected ran from the parking lot to the road. I hit the brakes, trying to avoid running anyone over and causing a multiple body pile up. To the right I saw Peaches cross to the other side of the road, the infected right on her tail.

A moment later, a ball of fire erupted behind her.

I guess she had one cocktail left.

However, the infected weren’t the least bit intimidated anymore. She was so close now, right within their grasp. I was the only thing standing between them and the revenge they so desired.

No more being nice.

I hit the gas and plowed over the grassy median, knocking a few people out of my way in the process. I slid out into the road, thrown about in my seat. Through the crowd, I saw Peaches run into the parking lot of a Tire Kingdom. A parade of infected admirers followed her. The rest swarmed upon the SUV, surrounding me.

Bad idea.

I jammed the gas again and bulldozed through them with such ease Robinson would cry tears of joy.

Upon clearing a path to the Tire Kingdom, I swore I heard gunfire. And not just one or two shots.
Repeated
gunfire.

I skidded to a stop next to Peaches. She opened the passenger door and leapt inside. I wasted no time putting the pedal back to the metal. The swarm of infected continued to chase after us like we had Justin Bieber tied up in the back.

God, how I wished that were true.

“How’s Olivia?” Peaches asked, reaching into the backseat.

“Hopefully not too shaken up,” I said, watching Peaches pull the baby into her lap. “Did you hear gunshots?”

“Yeah,” Peaches said, still trying to catch her breath. “The shots were coming from across the street. It must be them. I guess that means the plan worked … even if I almost died.”

She smiled at me, still breathing heavily.

“Isn’t the first time you’ve
almost
died,” I said.

“No, it’s becoming a regular thing.”

“At least you still have your glow.”

“It’s called sweat, and you’ve got it too.”

“Hell, I was sweating bullets.”

I pulled out on to Narcoossee and crossed the median again, heading directly for the Walgreens parking lot. The fires had all went out, but the remnants of the battle remained. Bodies littered the lot, many still alive. I swerved around them and pulled alongside the front entrance of the store. One of the doors had become unhinged, the glass spotted with jagged bullet holes.

“Do you see them?” I asked.

Peaches stared out the passenger window, her big blonde head of curly hair blocking much of my view.

“Nope. And if they’re still inside, they’ve got company.”

A steady stream of infected coasted around the SUV and disappeared through the broken door.

Another round of gunfire rang out. Loud. Very close by.

“Must be coming from inside,” I said,

“I don’t know. I still can’t see anything. It’s too dark in there.”

“I’ll go in,” I said, throwing the car in park and reaching around for the rifle. “I still got a few shots left.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t go in there. It’s too dangerous. You could be shot.”

More gunfire. This time it sounded further away. Then came the sound of screeching tires from somewhere behind us.

We both turned to look out the back windshield. For a moment, there was only the dark shadow of faces as the infected continued to pass us by. Then I saw lights appear on the road that ran beside the Walgreens, followed closely by the other SUV identical to ours, quickly gaining speed.

“Never mind,” I said, flipping the car back into drive. “There they go.”

Without slowing down, the SUV drifted out on to Narcoossee, its tires crying out for mercy as they skipped against the pavement.

“They must not have seen us,” Peaches said. “They don’t know we’re here.”

“Then we’ll have to catch them,” I said, turning the car around.

I hoped that all my experience driving my grandma’s big behemoth had helped prepare me for this moment. Judging by the way our twin had taken that last corner—without even the slightest tap on the brakes—Robinson was likely behind the wheel. And there, he was a professional maniac.

I’d have my work cut out for me.

I slammed my foot on the gas. “Hang on.”

“They’re probably heading back to the highway,” I said, flying down Narcoossee, having left behind a wave of infected in my wake.

Peaches had both arms wrapped tight around Olivia like she was a good luck charm. “Be careful.”

“Hopefully they’ll slow down soon.”

“I can barely see their brake lights anymore. You should turn on the high beams.”

I took her advice. The added light wouldn’t help keep Robinson and company in my sights, but it might keep us from rear-ending a parked police car and soaring through the windshield to our deaths.

“They’re turning right,” Peaches said.

I nodded. “Just like I thought. They’re getting on the highway. Going west.”

I slowed down to take the on ramp. Not slow enough for Peaches.

“Jimmy, be careful,” she said again. She took one hand off Olivia and grabbed hold of the
oh shit
handle.

“I am. If I go any slower, we’ll never catch them. You know Robinson’s used to speeding … he’s a cop.”

On the highway, I increased speed, getting up to eighty miles per hour. Occasionally we’d lose the red of their brake lights around a bend, and then catch up with them again a mile later. When we reached I-4 ten miles further west, the distance between us closed instantly.

“They’re slowing down,” Peaches said.

I had already begun easing on to the brakes. “Actually, I think they’ve stopped.”

As we rolled closer, losing speed, I realized why.

Once again, the military had come out to play and left their big toys scattered all over the highway.

“Well, I don’t think we’re getting on to the interstate,” I said. “But at least we caught them. You can relax now.”

Peaches glanced over at me blank faced. “We can never relax … ever … again.”

Touché.

Just as I came up behind our car twin, the driver’s side door opened and Robinson stepped out into the wide spray of our headlights. I immediately cut off the high beams to save his eyes some pain.

“Jimmy?” he said, squinting into the light.

“It’s me,” I said, getting out of the car.

“Holy shit, it
is
you!” He jogged over and gave me a big bear hug. Chubby people always give the best hugs. “You made it!”