Texas, the lone star state. It was bigger than I thought, way bigger. A lot of nothing in any given direction, and there's cactus everywhere. I've never seen such a diabolical plant in such abundance in my life. Amarillo turned into a giddy school girl the second we entered the state. I'm glad for her, she's so close to her goal, so close to some sort of happiness that doesn't involve arterial spray or copious amounts of liquor. But besides that, besides finding family, there's really nothing to get giddy about.
"We're about twenty miles from Amarillo, uh, Amarillo." Brooklyn announced, as he read the road sign passing the right of his vision. The girl kept silent, not replying, her eyes fixated on familiar turf and vegetation. Havana was in the front seat next to Brooklyn. Needless to say not a whole lot of words were spoken between the two. Not since that 'little' incident a few hours ago. It actually started to snow outside, an oddity to some degree. Brooklyn thought snow was a myth down here but it seemed to be commonplace to Amarillo. The midmorning light made the foliage seem browner than it really was. It appeared brittle and dry, all it needed was a firm foot of a wondering hand to snap it. Another road sign past over the Suburban. The large metal sheet was ripped in half by some unknown force. The driver eyed the side of the road to see an airplane wing on the ground. A look of disbelief swept over his face. The wing looked no worse for wear, besides lacking the entire plane body it was suppose to be fastened on. Bringing his eyes forward Brooklyn spotted the rest of the air bus.
"Whoa. What happened here." He said in awe. The massive fuselage stretched over the width of the road as parts of it scattered everywhere. The dirt that the belly of the beast buried into was charred black. The boy brought the SUV off the highway and into the grass. The vehicle slowed down as it weaved through the field of debris. Everyone in the car looked into the plane as an opening exposed itself. The interior was burnt and utterly gutted, oxygen masks hung from the ceiling as well as wires and chunks of plastic, the passenger's never stood a chance. Unconsciously maneuvering the Suburban back onto the road Brooklyn brought his optics to the on coming road.
"Holy shit. . ." He gasped. Lines upon lines of abandon cars extended as far as the eye could see. The entire road, oncoming and outgoing lanes, were taken up by cars leaving the city.
"Look's like they were trying to evacuate the city." Amarillo spoke.
"Civvies couldn't make it through. They were doomed." Havana added.
Brooklyn kept quite about the now relics from the past and remained on the task at hand "Looks like we have to take the shoulder all the way down."
They continued forward, empty car after empty car passed by the left windows. A disturbing, hollow feeling crept inside the three watching the vehicles pass. It became eerily obvious that everyone that was stopped here never made it out alive. Brooklyn clenched the steering wheel as he kept the vehicle straight on the soggy grass.
"So, what were you two's cars prior to the outbreak?" New York brought everyone's thoughts off the sight next to them. In hindsight it seemed disrespectful, having to do with cars and all.
"Chevy Silverado. It was black with an American flag sticker on the top left corner of the rear window. You saw it when you first met me." Amarillo recalled fondly.
"That was you're truck? Huh, wasn't it a little big? For just a-um-you? Uh never mind. . . And you Havana?" Brooklyn treated his sentence as if he treaded over thin ice.
"Nineteen-sixty-nine Camaro SS. It was gray with two black stripes going from front to back." Havana smirked.
"Wow. What happened to it?"
"Boyfriend took it."
"Did you get it back?"
"No, he became a zombie and drove it off a cliff."
"Oh. . . Well, then. . . Okay. . ."
"What about you? What did you have?" Amarillo questioned back.
"A Toyota Celica, Ford F-150 combo. Very nice." Brooklyn joked.
"Seriously. What did you have?" Amarillo pressed.
"A Celica, it was black. Not as interesting as the Toyota Celica, Ford F-150 combo, mind you." The kid then looked farther down the road. "Hey, wait a sec. I got an idea."
"Uh oh. What is it?" The girl in the back seat asked nervously.
"Who want's to bust some zombie heads? We can get up on the roof and shoot them from up there."
"What?! What's that going to accomplish?"
"Pass the time."
"Might as well, I'll drive." Havana egged on.
"The obsession with killing things in this group is disturbing. . ." Amarillo said under her breath.
Brooklyn situated himself over the left passenger window, legs dangling off the side. Amarillo sat next to him, her legs over the edge as well. Holding his M16 the boy looked to the oncoming road.
"So what am I suppose to use? This shotgun's not going to reach them." Amarillo looked down at her firearm.
"We could switch off if you want-"
Havana interrupted Brooklyn "I found something down here." Her muffled voice informed through the hole next to the girl.
"What is it?" Amarillo questioned as a pistol was tossed out of the sun roof "Oh!" She yelped before catching it.
"Nice. Here comes this group." New York nodded his head at the direction of the zombies. He shouldered his weapon and aimed. Waiting for them to draw closer he saw Amarillo slide the clip out of the pistol, check the ammo in it, and slam it back in before cocking the hammer. It was odd to see her do that. The action was something a professional would do, not someone like Amarillo. Shrugging off the notion Brooklyn brought an undead into his sights. He fired a shot, tagging the female zombie in the left shoulder. He fired again, this time downing it. The rotting body spun one full rotation before meeting the pavement. Amarillo pointed the handgun at the other and fired. The first shot missed but the other one caught the tall zombie-man in the gut.
"Ouch, your nasty with that thing." Brooklyn commented.
"I'm nasty with other things too." The girl smirked.
"Is that a threat?"
"No, it's a fact."
"Oh, really. Wait-" He targeted a zombie standing out from a gap in traffic and nailed it in the head.
"Eat it!" The kid yelled as his mark fell out of sight. Amarillo spotted two more on the side of the road, closer to the Suburban, and opened fire. Two bullets missed but two hit the left zombie in the chest, while the other bullet nicked the right one's head.
"Ow, a bit off." Brooklyn teased.
"Hey! It's difficult with this thing! Do you want to try it?"
"Sure, let's swap." The two exchanged guns, he handed the girl his rifle with his left hand while grabbing the pistol with his right "Better?"
"Much. Now let's cap some more bitches." Amarillo smirked.
"Now that's the spirit! Look, here's some more." Brooklyn held the pistol at the first of the scattered zombies. Before he could really aim, the girl shouldered Brooklyn's M16 and fired short-controlled bursts into the three visible zombies.
New York lowered the pistol and looked at Amarillo in an extremely confused way "Jesus. Where was that when we needed it?!"
Amarillo laughed, holding her hand to her mouth "You weren't watching."
"But-wha-but-uh-how?!"
"Don't worry about it, here comes some more. I'll let you have them."
"Gee thanks, way to rub it in." Brooklyn jokingly sighed. Amarillo giggled as she watched him prepare to shoot. He lifted the pistol again, aimed, and fired. The first bullet missed but the second hit a male zombie in the throat. The next undead got nothing but a click of the trigger.
"Aw man, out of ammo." He said in a bummed tone.
Amarillo turned and leaned close to the sun roof "Do you have any pistol rounds down there?"
"Yeah, here's a clip and something special." Havana grinned as she handed up the items. The girl turned and held the clip to Brooklyn. He took it and ejected the previous clip then slid in the new one.
"What is that?" He questioned. Amarillo showed him the spherical object "What? is that. . . A grenade!?"
"I think so."
Brooklyn looked down at the SUV "Who the hell's car did we steal?!"
"I don't know. It was just in the glove compartment." The girl shrugged, not knowing anymore than the boy next to her. "Here take it."
"Ok, let's see what this thing can do." He looked out upon the road "I want to get a big group with this."
Having not found a substantial group of zombies yet, Brooklyn kept to his pistol. After twenty minutes on the roof a break paused, no undead within viewing distance. They set down their weapons and took a breather from shooting. Brooklyn finished a soda and threw the bottle to the slow moving ground. He chewed on the remaining straw. Probably not the manliest way to drink a soda, but he liked it that way.
"So why are you keeping that thing in the tarp with us? What is it?" Amarillo asked. However softly she put it, those words were a threat to Brooklyn's goal.
He paused for a second, formulating what to say "It's my old things, nothing big, just keepsakes and what not."
"Really? I didn't know you were the type to hold onto stuff like that."
"There's a lot you don't know. Most of it boring and meaningless."
"Come on, it can't be all boring."
"Yes it is. Nothing big happened back then. Absolutely nothing."
"You lived in New York and Los Angeles. I think you just don't want to tell me." Amarillo continued to pry.
"No, I'm sorry, I got jack. If you wanted to talk to someone that's lived in both cities and had action randomly happen around them, I'm the wrong person." Brooklyn deflected the barrage.
"But you're the only person. Left alive and that I know of, ever."
"That's flattering but I'm tellin' ya'. I got nothing."
"Hmm." The girl hummed before going silent. Brooklyn looked behind the Suburban, still chewing on the straw. Two minutes past as the SUV continued at it's moderate pace on the shoulder of the road. Snow flakes floated gently down to the ground. A couple landed on Brooklyn's legs and shoes. They were small but big enough to see, nothing like up north. A cold sting sparked in Brooklyn's nose every time he inhaled. The air smelled of wet dead grass and tree bark. As the boy sank into a relaxing state he kicked his right foot up every now and again, tapping on the window. Suddenly he felt tension on his straw, the one he was still chewing. Brooklyn quickly shifted his eyes to see Amarillo's face next to his, in very close proximity. His heart began to race as she looked back at him. He stopped chewing his end of the straw and simple held it between his teeth. Amarillo did the same to the other end as the moment lasted for several seconds. Brooklyn grew nervous as time went on. His vision began to blur, like it did back in Tucumcari, something he has never experienced. Amarillo let go of the straw and gently pulled it out of Brooklyn's mouth.
"Let's make that life a little less boring." She whispered as she pushed Brooklyn back.
"I, uh-I-Okay. . ." Brooklyn leaned back, extremely nervous by this point. Amarillo pressed against New York, almost parallel to the roof. His heart began to beat faster that he could count, and he could count pretty fast. She drew closer to him, in slow motion.
"Erm, Ouch. Hold on, hold on, I'm laying on the grenade, ow." Brooklyn winced as he leaned up and pulled the frag out of his hoodie pocket. Not even having time to safely place the explosive somewhere Amarillo laid on him and lowered her face closer to his. Brooklyn's ears began to ring for some reason as this, event, unfolded. Amarillo's lips were now within inches of his. He though about saying something, like how he's never actually done this before or that he wasn't handed the 'manual of kissing' but he kept silent. His left foot kicked up several times, a mixture of nervousness, fear, and adrenaline. Now with in milliseconds of impact, Amarillo's lips kept moving toward his. Suddenly something grasped hard onto his ankle. Brooklyn opened his eyes wide as he felt his leg being yanked. He pushed Amarillo off of him and slid off the roof.
"Whoa!" He yelled as he was ripped off the Suburban. Quickly he grabbed the metal rack on the top of the SUV. He looked down to see a large zombie holding onto his lower leg. Blood drizzled out of the zombie's mouth and it opened it's nasty mouth wide, about to bite into Brooklyn's leg.
"Err!" He strained to hold onto the bar. The kid pulled his leg up wildly, trying to avoid becoming infected with all his essence. Lifting the grenade that was still in his right hand, he brought it to his mouth. Brooklyn pulled the pin with his teeth and released the hand leaver. He stuffed the fragmentation device into the zombie's gapping mouth. Stunned the over weight zombie looked up at Brooklyn. With this opportunity New York thrashed his ankle out of the zombie's grasp.
"You fat-ass prick!" Brooklyn yelled as he kicked with his right foot, nailing the undead in the forehead. The zombie's head jerked back, then stumbled backward away from the SUV. It mindlessly swatted it's hands in front of it's mouth before the grenade blew up. A thick pink mist scattered everywhere, nothing over the size of a small cat splattered to the ground.
"Fu. . .Fuck. . ." Brooklyn gasped in over exhaustion as he clung onto the rail, his eyes darting around. He let go and landed on his feet. With haste he opened the passenger door and jumped inside.
"Ooh. Ho." Brooklyn took deep breaths as he shook off what just happened. He rocked back and forth as he folded his arms into his chest.
"Are you alright?" Havana asked as she looked through the rearview mirror.
"I think I might just throw up. . . Oh god." He said before putting his hands on his face. Thoughts rushed through Brooklyn's mind, all of it overwhelming. Going from an innocent, potentially sensual moment to a life threatening, gore filled one was no easy task.
"Here, drink some of this." The driver handed the kid a canned drink. Brooklyn grabbed it and took a long drink.
He made a disgusted look and opened his mouth "What the hell is this?"
"I don't know, it's what ever you left up here. But it took your mind off of that attack didn't it?"
"Aw, that's sick." Brooklyn cringed as he rolled down the window and tossed the concoction out of the car. Amarillo stepped down from the roof, placing her feet on the center console. She hopped down and into the front seat, placing the firearms in the leg space below.
"Is everything ok?" She asked Brooklyn, who was still quite shaken up from what just happened.
"I'll be alright. I-I'm sorry." Was all the boy could think of to say.
"No-it's alright. . . What do you need?"
"Just some time alone. For a second." His voice shaking with shock.
"Ok, whatever you need." Amarillo accepted, her voice caring and calm.
Another twenty-five minutes passed, the group neared Amarillo's house. Her house wasn't exactly in Amarillo but on the outskirts around it, down a country road. As the SUV pulled into a long driveway of a ranch type property Amarillo lifted in her seat. Parking a few yards in front of the house Havana turned off the engine and the girl riding shotgun jumped out of the vehicle. Brooklyn quickly followed, stepping quickly out of his side of the Suburban.
"Dad! Dad! Are you there?! It's me! Amber!" Amarillo yelled while running to the steps of her house. Brooklyn froze in thought as he heard Amarillo's real name.
It was quite a surprise to know her real name, let alone anybodies real name. "Amber". . . It's a pretty name, I'll admit. It's also kinda' funny that both her real and Zombieland name starts with an 'A'. Thought I'd bring that up.
The girl slammed her fist on the door over and over trying to get an answer. Brooklyn jogged up the steps, Havana a step behind.
"Dad, Eric!" Amarillo continued to shout through the door. Brooklyn eyed the ceiling of the patio and were it connected with the house, his gun held at chest level. He looked down and through the window.
"Hey, Amarillo, right here. . ." He nudged the girl. She looked into the glass square, there was a note taped on it from the inside.
"Oh my god." The girl gasped. "They've gone to the Big Texan."
"What? What's that?" Brooklyn questioned, confused by the name.
"It's a restaurant, a popular tourist attraction."
"People actually visit up here?"
"We need to go there! It's just through the city down I-forty."
"That's the road we were just on. Ok let's move." Havana suggested. The group ran back to the SUV, there was no telling how long the note had been there, so time was of the essence.
Driving at a stead eighty-five miles an hour down the interstate the Suburban turned through clumps of destroyed cars.
"There it is." Amarillo pointed out to the driver.
"Wow, get a load of this place." Brooklyn smirked at the cheesy giant yellow building. Havana turned the SUV over the grass median and through the restaurants entrance into the parking lot. The wheels slowly came to a halt as the vehicle came to a stop in the vast asphalt lot. Everyone piled out, Amarillo led the charge to the doors of the steak house.
Brooklyn walked after the girl, eyeing the cowboy sign. "What's a 'steak ranch'?"
"Let's just follow Amarillo, come on." Havana urged the kid to keep up.
"I thought the correct term was steak house." Brooklyn jogged after the rest of the team "I swear it was steak house. . ."
Havana entered the building followed by Brooklyn. Inside it was a musty, unclean, western style restaurant.
Zombie apocalypse's don't work wonders for first impressions, this place was a smelly mess. If you try to see through the nasty trash, dust, rotten food, and other un-pleasant things, it's really quite quaint.
"Dad! Are you here!?" Amarillo sounded off again.
Brooklyn ran to were the girl was and slid around a corner, he skidded on his shoes for a few feet "Amarillo! Don't do that! We don't know what's in here!" Brooklyn shouted in a whisper.
She simply looked at him in distress, she wasn't going to stop until she found her family. "Dad! Da-"
A sound came from inside a room off to the left "Dad?"
Brooklyn watched Amarillo disappear through a doorway "Amarillo - Amber! Wait!" the girl failed to heed his words "Ooh man."
New York sprinted toward the door, Havana behind him. Sliding to the front of the opening Brooklyn scrambled into the room. He tripped into the middle of the room, then looked up.
"Amarillo? Wha- What are you doing?!" A sharp sting of pain in Brooklyn's words was clear. Havana jogged into the room, next to the boy.
"Hurm. . ." The woman growled.
"Stay where you are." The girl instructed, her shotgun pointed at her friends.
"A-Amber, don't do this. Not again." New York paused at her name briefly, not used to saying her real name.
"Shut up and put your hands in the air."
Brooklyn and Havana looked at each other and lifted their hands up.
"What are you doing this for?!" Havana question in confusion.
"Keep your hands up bitch." Amarillo snapped.
"Ooow, you're going to regret saying that puta. . ." Havana spoke to herself in a somewhat delighted tone.
"Amber, please, you don't have to do this." Brooklyn tried to reach her.
"Don't use my real name. Y-you can't." Amarillo winced in her speech. She said it in a different tone, as if it hurt her. Brooklyn tilted his head to get a better look at the girl's face. Suddenly he felt a thump strike the back of his head, then his whole body went numb. The kid fell to his knees then flat on the ground. As Brooklyn's vision gave out he saw his hand fall in front of his face, then he watched as Havana collapsed to the floor. His breathing drowned out all other sounds as he tried to look to Amarillo. A man stepped over his body and toward Amber, followed by another man, this time a younger one. Brooklyn watched in his fading state as the three people came together. Amarillo had the happiest look on her face as the family embraced. Brooklyn's vision then went black and he fell into unconsciousness. . . .