My Zombie Summer (Book 1): The Undead Road (5 page)

Boom!

The 30.06 round made the car shake.

Chloe whined.

Kaylynn turned back to check on her dog and stared at our stockpile. She whistled. “Damn . . . you guys got a lot of guns. I’ve never seen so many stashed in one trunk before. Where’d you all get them?”

“My husband,” Mom said. “He was a gun dealer.”

“Cool . . . These aren’t all his, are they?”

Mom laughed. “He wishes. We went to his store before we left Naperville, near Chicago. He picked up what no one looted. We found the rest along the way.”

“Where’re you headed?” Kaylynn asked.

“Colorado,” I said. “Our Grandparent’s cabin.”

The girl turned to me, looking half interested.

“Where are
you
headed?” Mom said.

The girl shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

Boom!

Mom cringed. “I know we just met, but I have a good vibe about you. I’m a great judge of character—I’m a nurse.” She shifted in her seat before she looked over her shoulder at us. “You don’t have to be alone, Kaylynn. You’re more than welcome to stay with us.”

She was?

I thought letting someone stay in our group was a
group
decision, never mind Dad’s reaction to dog hair. Granted, this stop may have doubled as an excuse to get away from it. Kaylynn took Jewel’s seat to increase her distance from me. I just couldn’t understand why she wanted to alienate herself like that, like she wanted nothing to do with anyone, be they alive or undead.

She fiddled with her dragon pendant. “I’ll be fine on my own. Just leave me at the next town.”

“Are you sure?” Mom asked. “Everything is dangerous now. Somebody has to look after you.”

Kaylynn silently stared at her. “Don’t worry about me. I have Chloe. She’s all I need.”

Mom sighed. “I’d feel better if you stayed with us.”

“Or if you took one of our guns, at least,” I added.

“Yeah . . . I’d be dead if I had to rely on a gun.”

My head spun her way. “What do you mean?”

“I’d be dead if I had to rely on a gun,” she repeated. “You think you’re safe with guns? What do you think will stop them when you run out of bullets?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I wasn’t about to take that sitting down, but I
was
sitting down.

She leaned back. “Avoiding them is the only way to beat them. Outlive whatever has made them that way.”

“A gun stopped that Stalker that was chasing us,” I reminded her. “You never did said
thanks
.”

Kaylynn glared out Jewel’s window. “Okay. Thanks for delaying the inevitable. We’ll all die soon enough.”

Boom!

No one spoke. Mom gave me one of her looks, the kind she gives when I’ve crossed the line.
We’ll all die soon enough?
Whatever. If Kaylynn wanted to be an Ungrateful Gretchen, that was her choice. I looked out my window to see the damage that Jewel had made. Two holes marked the black arrows on the yellow direction sign, clean enough that I could barely see them. Jewel must’ve missed her first shot, but when it came to firearms, she was a quicker learner than me.

They made their way back to the car three shots later. Jewel opened her door. Kaylynn moved over.

“You’re next, Jeremy,” Dad said. “Bring your bag.” Happily accepting the invitation, I hopped out with my pack and waited to hear what he wanted to do. Certainly not to train. I was plenty good enough. “Jeremy and I will check the house. Never know what we’ll find.”

Mom parted her lips. “The usual five minutes?”

“Make it ten. We’ll be back real soon.”

Purposefully avoiding the girls’ eyes, I turned and readied my .45—loaded and ready this time. And Dad let me take point again. When we walked down the gravel driveway, scanning the perimeter first, we found nothing useful, just a rusted plow and a torn chicken coop with white feathers scattered everywhere. I guess they liked chickens, too. I went for the back door next.

“That’s enough,” Dad said. “They can’t see us.”

The way he said that chilled me unexpectedly. I turned to see what he was talking about. “Aren’t we going to check the house?”

“It’s been ransacked. I can tell by the prints.” Dad hung his AR-15 over his shoulder and reached behind his back. “I found this beauty in the armory. Your mother will kill me if she sees us with this.”

Before I could imagine what he was talking about, he drew a gun from his belt. It was a revolver—a
big
revolver. It had to be twice as long as my .45 Beretta.

“What the heck is
that
, Dad?

“This,” he smiled, “is a Five-Hundred Magnum.”

I just stared at it. “Five-Hundred what?”

“Smith and Wesson. You remember
Dirty Harry
?”

Do you feel lucky, punk
? Heck yeah. “It’s a classic!”

Dad grinned. “Well, this is bigger. Check it out.”

I pocketed my .45 and I walked over to him. He held onto the barrel and allowed me to take the grip in my hand. It was lighter than I expected, but it was long. At the end of the barrel was a hole the size of a penny. I could tell why Dad wanted me to bring my backpack.

I opened the cylinder.

It had four rounds, but it could hold five.

“When I say it’s powerful, I mean it,” Dad said. “These things pack some serious recoil. If you land your target, no matter what it is, it’ll practically explode.”

The thought of blowing Vectors up made me grin. Explosions: every young boy’s dream. “Can I try it?”

“Uh,” Dad hesitated. “I need to teach you how to use it first. And they’ll want to know why we shot.”

We needed an excuse? Fair enough. “False alarm?”

Dad shrugged, grinning himself. “Works for me.”

Accepting his consent, I searched for a target.

Down the path was a bunch of old cars.

Perfect.

I led the way and found a rusty Chevy pickup. The bullets for the gun were twice the size of a .45. I didn’t let that stop me. I was ready this time. I leaned forward, stiffened my wrist and held my finger along the trigger guard. A shot at the Chevy door would be enough.

“Lean in a little more,” Dad warned. “I’m not kidding about the recoil.”

I held the grip firmly with both hands and pulled the hammer back. Taking a breath, I aimed and slowly squeezed the trigger.

BLAM!

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground—tasting blood.

Dad ran to my side faster than I could swear.

His mouth moved. All I heard was a high-pitched
EEE
. I sat up, waiting for my ears to stop hurting. They don’t show it in the movies, but guns are really loud. If I fired every round in my .45 in quick succession, my ears would ache for hours. Fortunately, I’d fired a revolver. If I had pulled the trigger a second time on that behemoth of a gun, no doubt, I’d have gone deaf.

“That wasn’t smart.” I finally heard Dad. “I thought you could handle it.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” My ears were slowly adjusting back to normal. “I’m okay.”

“Here.” Dad handed me a handkerchief. “Keep pressure on that.”

I took the white cloth and pressed it on my nose. A warm trickle ran down my throat for a minute. Nothing felt broken, just bumped. I licked at my lower lip where the hammer had smacked me. There was a small cut, mixed with the unpleasant sensation of parted skin.

My bottom lip was split.

How would I explain it to Mom?

The Chevy door creaked and fell off. Dirt kicked into the air as it teetered on the ground. Dad picked up the .500 and laughed. “See! Powerful son of a—”

I had to admit, shooting a truck’s door off its hinge was pretty cool, whether I aimed at the hinge or not. It just goes to show that some of the greatest experiences happen by complete accident. The bleeding stopped. If things weren’t awkward enough, my wrist hurt.

“Sorry, Dad . . . I didn’t know what to expect.”

“I’ll hold onto this until you’re more practiced.” He took a deep breath, a sure sign that he was being hard on himself. “Let’s be more careful next time. Okay?”

“You sure I can’t keep it?”

Dad gave me a concerned, parental look. His dark eyebrows were cocked, and the wrinkles on his forehead stood out like a washboard. The right corner of his mouth forced his cheek back with a half-smile.

“I’ll keep it in my bag,” I said.

“Good idea.” He looked at the .500. “I don’t want to sit on it again. Turn around.” He opened my bag and slid the revolver inside. He then shoved it all the way to the bottom. “There. Now remember, don’t show that to anyone. Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.”

I nodded as we went back, but then Dad stopped me and let me fire his AR-15 on the way. Random, I know, but Dad is awesomely spontaneous like that.

The rifle was fine. I didn’t like how bulky it felt. Hand-held was more my thing. After we slammed a few holes into a wheelbarrow, we passed the aluminum shack and headed for the road, my lip and nose throbbing all the while. When the Explorer came into view, I did my best to clean up, hoping no one would notice. Mom was outside the car, her shotgun ready.

The two girls were staring at us from inside. For the first time, Kaylynn actually had a concerned face.

Mom held her hand up. “You forgot the radio.”

Dad slapped his hand on his forehead. “Whoops.”

Jewel poked her head through the sunroof again. “What did you shoot at?”

“Uh,” Dad stuttered. “I let Jeremy try my rifle.”

I put my poker face on. Smooth one, Dad.

Mom gave us a suspicious smirk, and then she returned to her side of the car. I didn’t look her in the eye, which paid off. She had said nothing about my face. Somehow I knew she hadn’t bought our story completely, although it was
partially
true. Dad never made up stories when it mattered, except for that one time when people were freaking out over the government wanting to take people’s guns away. Being the son of a gun dealer in Illinois is no cakewalk.

I viewed the stretch of highway behind us before I climbed into my seat, making an effort to peer out my window when I closed my door. I tucked in my cut lip. Before Dad could start the car, Kaylynn’s eyes were on me. Studying me, like she knew I was hiding something.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s with your face?”

“Whose face?” Mom looked back at me. “Jeremy?”

I had no choice. She’d find out eventually, so I lowered my lip and showed her the damage.

Thanks for blowing my cover, Chicago Cubs . . .

“Jeremy Barnes!” Mom cried. “What happened?”

Dad cleared his throat. “It was just an accident, Honey. He had a nasty spill with a truck door.”

Those were the facts, so I nodded. Jewel glanced at me next and leaned against Kaylynn. The mystery girl scooted away, more anxiously than before. What was her problem? When that Stalker came up behind me, she didn’t react. She could’ve let that thing sneak up on me and I wouldn’t have known until it was too late. Now she acted like a pansy because of my cut lip?

Grow a backbone or get out, Your Highness.

“Did you trip into a door?” Mom asked.

“Can we just get to David City already?” I said. “It’s getting dark . . .”

Mom turned around and faced the front. “I want to look at that when we stop.”

“He’ll be fine,” Dad said, trying to downplay the whole thing. “Just don’t kiss any Vectors, Jeremy.”

Jewel giggled into her hands, and Mom let out a scoff before laughing herself. Kaylynn’s reaction was altogether different. She didn’t say a word. I sensed an aversion, and some kind of empathy? That may have been wishful thinking. Dad turned the car on, pulled forward and made a right turn. Jewel began singing
On the Road Again
as we drove toward David City. Chloe panted behind me. It amazed me how quiet she was.