“The Soulless” V

Anya is trapped beneath the glove compartment while the zombie fights to wrap his jaws around Frank. 

“Get ‘im!” Jeb cries from the back seat. The front and back are separated by a cage.  

I grab the struggling creature’s face, its jagged motions are almost robotic. It’s strong but I manage to slam its skull against the dashboard, giving Frank enough time to crack it with the hatchet. 

Rest. 

The doors are all shut. We’re surrounded. The zombie carcass lies between Frank and I. Frank winces with pain. 

“Have you been bit?” I ask urgently. He moans loudly before he replies. 

“I fell on the… on the ax. My arm…” Frank manages to say. Anya is crying beneath the dashboard, crowded by bits of zombie, Frank’s grass stained boots and blood. 

“Are ya gonna be alright?” Jeb asks. He looks with a sober thoughtfulness that wasn’t present before.

“Who the hell are you? Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Frank sighs, wrapping his arm up with his jacket. “Drive, Tom, just get us the hell away.” 

I don’t hesitate. I start the engine and I drive.

I’m speeding down the flat, straight country road. I leave behind the mass of zombies. They can’t keep up with the buzzing engine.

“Boy, I wish I had me a beer or something!” Jeb yawns from the back seat. We kicked the zombie body, and its fragments, out of the car while we were still moving. We want to make it to the camp before nightfall. The sun sets around 5pm; the skyline is already showing the blue topaz mysticism that accompanies winter nightfall. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Frank says calmly. He tightens his grip on the jacket. 

“There’s something there for you to drink,” Anya says quietly, lost in the passing road. “Oh!” She suddenly shrieks. “Oh our neighbors, the Reilly’s! I hope they’re okay!” 

“I wouldn’t count on it, sweetie,” Frank says simply. “I wouldn’t, anyway. I mean all our families, what’s become of them- probably the same fate as the guy we just tossed.” 

“Please!” Anya cries and falls into my shoulder, covering her ears.

“How much longer?” Jeb asks irritated with the noise in the car. 

The long monotonous driving leaves our minds on the heavy subject of death- in the heat of battle we forget but now we’re lost in it, contemplating every mistake.  

“I would say about a half hour. Not long, we’re almost there,” Frank tells Jeb. Frank rests his forehead on the window, he wants to sleep, his squinty eyes are dying like the sun. 

Jeb moves close to the back of my head, I can smell his liquor tainted breath. “You don’ talk much, do’ya?” 

“I’m concentrating on the road,” I tell him for lack of a better response. What am I supposed to say? This car ride has given me four hours worth of evidence of why I hate the human race. I never want to spend four hours in the car with another person- ever. This car is so crowded. A drunkard in the back, a cop, a Russian college student in the passenger seat, and a pathetic self-loathing 25 year old driver.

Only 26 more minutes to ago.

I pull around a long dirt bend, the tires of the car sink into the mire. After driving a ways down, the car will no longer budge, it sinks further and further into the quicksand-like mud.

“We’ll have to push it the rest of the way,” I tell them. Frank curses and rolls down the window. “We can’t live without the car, Frank.”

“Don’t I know it, donchya think I know it? I know we can’t live without this damned car!” He snarls, clutching his arm tighter. “Anya, how far until the house?” 

“Not far, not far! You can see it there- see? Around the bend, through that thicket, that’s our house,” 

I told Frank to get into the driver seat. Jeb, Anya and I trudge through the mud, ankle deep, sucking and pulling on our feet.  Luckily, the driveway slants slightly downhill. 

We place our cold, stained hands on the back bumper. I see my disheveled reflection. Is that me?

“Ready?” I ask quietly. I know no one will ever be. “Go!”

Frank floors the pedal of the police car, the tires toss up large hunks of earth, mud, grass. The reluctant mud releases my foot. I place it ahead and then again. Soon there is a slow rotation, despite the Earth’s mighty grip, we are all pushing this car down this driveway to a blue carport- the most beautiful blue carport ever. It’s more of a watery indigo, lighting up in the dusty dusk sky. 

The car moves, Anya trips and lands her elbow on the bumper. Jeb is growling; I’m afraid he might have a heart attack from working so hard, tears are forming in his eyes. One foot in front of the other. 

I retract at the sight of a figure standing in a clearing.

He’s watching us.