Decisions

Apparently, those gunshots had brought out the entire zombie population. Dave had only to follow the gunshots and go a dozen blocks over before he found the, now ruined, jeep that those men had used to escape. It had looked like a fairly dependable vehicle before, but now it was embedded in the side of a thick tree, which was ironic really, since it was the only tree standing on what seemed the entire block. Still, from Dave's detective skills, and the fact that one of them was being picked apart while sitting in the passenger seat, he knew it hadn't ended well for them. Zombies milled around the wreck, investigating the crash and eating what they could from it, which served to excite the ones sitting in the back of his car, who began pawing at the windows and groaning.

As he came to a stop next to the jeep, he could easily see that nothing was worth grabbing. The jeep itself was totaled, and any weapons that may have been in the car probably weren't fighting a dozen or so zombies off for. Besides, he already had a few in his trunk.

Pressing the gas down, Dave noticed that he was the new target of interest for the crowd outside. He didn't have time to get bogged down by a crowd of zombies, so he pushed through them. Since most were on his right, by the jeep, he easily bypassed the majority of the crowd. But a few still managed to drift in front of him. Instead of stopping though, Dave gently nudged them with his car until they got the idea and either moved for fell underneath.

Once he was out of immediate danger, he pressed the gas pedal down further and picked up speed. Those men couldn't have gone too far, and he was fairly intent on finding them. If they wanted to rough him up, Dave was alright with returning the favor.

Dave made a right turn at the next street and he spotted a few idling zombies in the road. He hoped that those men had attracted some attention before they disappeared so he could just follow a zombie right to them, but nothing in the area stood out to him. It was just abandoned suburban home after home and the only thing that changed was the amount of damage done to an area.

After circling a few blocks, he started to give up on finding them. With the sound of the car, he wouldn't exactly sneak up on them. But still, he would love to give them a piece of his mind. What kind of person would take advantage of this situation? Dave didn't care, they needed to be shown that he wasn't going to just roll over for them.

But finally, after another few minutes of searching, Dave figured that he would run into them again at some point. Where else was there to go? The infection was already here and from what he knew, it was everywhere now. It served to remind him that he needed to get into Canada before they shut down the borders or something.

To his left, Dave could still hear the sounds of gunfire coming from the direction of the city. It was still fighting, even though Dave believed it wouldn't last much longer. Even if people were still alive, Dave wasn't going to go anywhere close to the inner city. He wasn't about to risk getting shot because he could walk with the undead.

Once he confirmed that he was going no where near the city, his thoughts wandered back to his friends, both his old ones and Natalie. He still needed to get past New York, but then again, Natalie could still be in the area. Then Dave replayed the events from the motorcade and suddenly felt a little sick. They hadn't hesitated to shoot at others, what would stop them from just executing people once they got what they wanted? Dave hoped that wasn't the case and continued driving.

Still, the thought of innocent people getting hurt bugged him. He might have been able to do something, but what? He was only one man with a couple rifles. For a brief moment, Dave imagined him leading some kind of zombie army to come to the rescue. But it quickly disappeared when reality hit him. What would stop the zombies from eating the wrong people?

A few blocks later, Dave found the entrance ramp of another highway. It had been what he was unconsciously looking for the entire time, but even though he had finally found it, it seemed that everything was turned against him somehow. A sixteen wheeler sat overturned on the entrance ramp, blocking his access. Parking next to it and several abandoned cars, Dave figured that he would need a minute to think about what he was going to do anyway. He turned the ignition key and let the car's engine fade into nothing.

He leaned his head against the wheel, and his eyes didn't hesitate to close. It was comfortable, and he felt tired all of a sudden. But he wouldn't let himself sleep; he had to figure out his next move. Would he drive to Canada, possibly linking up with his friends but leave Natalie behind? That decision made him feel another round of guilt, but he desperately wanted to meet up with Michael and Paul, and even James and Rachael. It was almost like he just wanted to show them that he was still alive. But then he still felt drawn to help Natalie. He wasn't sure what he should do, but he knew that the scales were tipped in the favor of his old friends. He just had a stronger bond with them.

Dave sat back up in his seat, having made the decision. Natalie was a nice girl and all while he knew her, but Dave liked to think that there wasn't a possible way to help her without putting himself in danger.

He turned the car back on, felt the engine rumble to life, and pressed the gas pedal. The entrance ramp was blocked, but nothing was stopping him from just using the exit instead. What was going to happen? Were the police going to stop him?

His tires hit the beginnings of the ramp and he pressed the pedal further. As he passed several cars that sat on the roadway, he figured that they had tried to do the same thing he was, only Dave didn't have to worry about zombies. Where they had failed, Dave could succeed effortlessly. It bothered him in a strange way.

When he reached the highway itself, Dave saw that the road was almost clear. As it turned out, not many people were heading into Erie, so it left his path almost completely clear. That suited Dave perfectly fine. As his speedometer hit fifty-five, Dave only had to ease his way by a couple cars that still sat in the four lanes. He would rather be on the right side of the road out of habit, but the concrete divider that sat in the middle stopped him from crossing. Besides, the other side of the road was clogged with cars of all shapes and sizes. Add to that the numerous zombies that were drifting around them, Dave would have had a fun time navigating the road.

As he got further down, he couldn't help but press his car to go a little faster. He had the opportunity, and he hadn't sped since his days in high school. He glanced down and saw his meter reaching towards eighty and noticed the adrenaline racing through him. The zombies in his car began going crazy, banging on the windows and yelling. At one hundred, his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Seconds later, scenery and other cars were flashing by him at one-twenty, and the car shook around him. The slightest twitch could send him veering off the road and into an obstacle.

Behind him, the loud crash of a window being shattered forced him to switch his foot to the brake. He almost lost control just out of shock, but the sound of the whipping air filled the car. The noise served to both bring him back into reality and to drown out his yelling about stupid zombies and their need to destroy everything around them.

He slowed down and eventually pulled over to the side of the highway. Looking behind him, he let out a frustrated and angry breath at their behavior. The zombies, including Clemens, were yelling and staring straight at him, as if blaming him for forcing them to break the window. He just notched this up as another excuse to hate them.

Turning around to face the wheel again, Dave tried to focus back on driving. Before he could even start though, he felt another wave of frustration run through him. They wouldn't shut up. They all just kept yelling.

"Shut up!" He cried, slamming his hands on the wheel. His frustration was matched by another feeling. Sparks swept across his vision and he felt light headed. He was really getting sick of it, this feeling. But he somehow knew that the zombies would stop their noise. Sure enough, as his sight returned to normal and the light headed feeling went away, the undead quit their annoying whining. With the silence now filling up the car, Dave whispered thanks and pressed the pedal again. This time, the zombies didn't make a sound, but only for a moment.

As his meter danced around fifty again, Dave heard them start once more. Their cries rose in volume until Dave got sick of it and yelled at them. Their shouting stopped like he expected, but started back up a couple minutes later. Once more, he shouted for them to shut up and they did as told. The cycle continued for another ten minutes as Dave and his undead passengers competed in a shouting match. Soon though, his throat began to hurt from the strain, and he let them win for the time being.

Besides, a sign on his far right had caught Dave's attention. Before it passed him by, he had read the distance to New York City. He didn't have too far to go until he reached the border of the state, and he was intent on getting to his friends.

In front of him was one very shaken and bleeding man. With the plastic zip ties binding his arms behind him, the kneeling man was only able to shake off the sweat and blood that ran down his face. But even the most simplest of actions were becoming difficult. With the bright lamp glaring his vision, it was difficult for him to make anything out, and that made it harder for him to anticipate the blows. As he blinked away another bead of sweat, Jack's fist collided with his right cheek.

"How could you even think of doing something like that?" He heard Jack yell. It echoed off the walls of the building and rang in his ears. It was true, the saying that hindsight is twenty-twenty. If he knew this would be the turnout of his actions, he wouldn't have even considered heading into town with those other guys. But it didn't matter now, they were all dead, at least he believed them to be.

"I'm sorry." He cried, his stinging cheek only adding to his misery. His head had already suffered the brunt of a pistol whipping, and it was bleeding into his face. "I didn't mean for this to happen." The answer did not suit Jack.

"But it did." The voice was in front of him, but he still couldn't see him since he had retreated behind the lamp. "Now what are you going to do?" The man thought about an answer that would sound good.

"Nothing." It was the only thing he could come up with.

"That's the best you can say?" To say Jack was pissed would be an understatement. This man, he didn't even know his name, had led those things right to their gates. He had lost two people and now they were threatening to mutiny. "Nothing" was all this guy could come up with? Not on his watch.

"I didn't mean for it to happen." The man repeated again. Jack knew he was sincere, but he also knew that this couldn't go unpunished. He would have to make an example out of him. If anyone else did the same, they could all die. Jack wasn't very fond of that idea.

"It doesn't matter. You can't get away with this." Letting him go now would only serve to make others think he was soft. If they thought that, they would take charge and boot him out of power. In front of him, the man began crying and Jack couldn't believe that he had once served in a prison.

"I'm sorry." The man sobbed, finally collapsing on the cold, hard floor. His eyes closed, and his head trauma finally caught up with him. Within seconds, the man had blacked out. Letting out a heavy breath, Jack stood next to his still form.

"It doesn't matter."

"This is what happens when you don't follow the rules." Jack yelled and made sure everyone could hear him. With the crowd gathered in the parade ground, they had no trouble seeing the kneeling man on the ground.

He had brought them all out, save for a few guards, to witness the punishment for going outside the gates without telling anyone. With a pistol at his side, Jack was about to deliver the sentence.

"This man has put you all in danger." He told them about how they had left without alerting him or anyone else. He let the crowd know that the zombies had arrived only because this man had led them back to the camp. He told them everything, but made sure to exaggerate a few details. And by the time he was done explaining, the crowd was booing the man, crying for something to be done about it. Without hesitation, Jack did what they wanted. He brought the handgun to the man's head, and pulled the trigger.

The results of the shot sent parts of the man's skull flying through the air. Blood erupted from the side of his head as the now lifeless body fell sideways into the matted down grass. The crowd that had gone silent at the shot now erupted in a cacophony of shouts. This man had left without the proper notification, had led a dangerous and senseless mission, and had put them all in danger. Now he was dead, rightfully so. They cheered and Jack soaked up every bit of the attention. It was hard for him not to smile, but it finally edged its way onto his lips. He was back in control.

Somehow, he knew that this had been a bad idea. A "raid" for supplies, namely alcohol, had gone sour, just as he believed it would. Now he was paying for his decision. His "friends" had abandoned him hours ago. They had always picked on him, but throwing him out because he would take up room for the beer was just ridiculous. Now he was stranded out in the middle of nowhere, just him and whatever zombies he happened across.

Speaking of the undead, he had lost the last straggler only a couple minutes ago, and unless he was quiet, he may stumble into it again. These things, they terrified him. Sure, he acted tough when he had been with the group, but alone and without a gun, he was powerless. The only thing he could do, and it was the only thing he had done in the last hour, was run. But he couldn't run forever. Those things, they didn't seem to get tired. He had watched them run until their joints popped out of place. He however, couldn't keep up with their pace. Even now, as he stood next to the cement barrier of an exit to the highway, he was breathing heavily, tired from his escape.

But as he planned his next move, he believed himself to be luckier than the ones in his former group. He had heard the machine gun fire, and knew that it had been them. On one hand, he was devastated that his only possible support in the area may have been destroyed, but then he was also very happy that they ran into trouble. They had thrown him out and taken his weapon, they deserved it. That's what he figured anyway.

Poking his head out from behind the concrete, he didn't see any movement. Once again, he hoped that he had lost those zombies that had chased him. They weren't too bright, but damn were they determined.

Deciding that it was safe enough, he put both hands on the concrete and vaulted over it.

He jumped right into the path of a car.

For the past minute or so, Dave had been wondering what he had done that was so wrong in his life. He had already suffered being separated from his friends, and he was right in the middle of an apocalypse, but just as his luck was turning, he ran into another roadblock, literally.

Sure, the roads were clogged before, but this was just insane. There was not a single gap on his side of the highway. He knew, he had checked for what seemed like forever. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he couldn't continue, which only served to piss him off. He wasn't leaving this car, it was the only one he could find working and he didn't want to walk. So after slamming the inside of the car for a while in frustration and blaming himself for being so lazy, Dave reluctantly turned around and started the long drive back.

And all of that had led him to this moment in time. After screwing around with the radio for a while, Dave found his exit ramp and took it. As he drove, his attention, once again, became trapped by the buttons and fuzzy squeals of the radio. He had looked up just in time to see someone jumping over on his side of the ramp.

And to say that he turned the wheel just in time to avoid hitting the person was not the entire truth. He avoided the collision by mere inches.

With his wheel twisted as far as it could go to the right, Dave collided with the wall and the airbags deployed on him. As his car scraped the side with a terrible grinding noise, the man he had almost hit still stood in the middle of the road, frozen and only able to watch as the vehicle finally came to a stop at the end of the ramp. When the shock finally wore off, he sprinted towards it and tried to see if the driver was okay.

"Are you alright?" He yelled, coming to a stop at the driver's window. The airbag finally deflated, and he saw a very shaken man staring back at him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Was the first thing to come out of his mouth. The man shrugged the rough question off and opened the door for him. He was used to being sworn at anyway.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone was still alive." As he looked to the passenger's seat, it took him just a second to realize that it was a zombie. He jumped back, suddenly not so glad that he had found another survivor. Dave saw his reaction, and urged him to stay where he was.

"They won't attack, calm down." In truth, Dave wasn't so sure. They had spotted the man and began frantically trying to get out of the car. He yelled at them to sit still, but the man almost ran off while he was trying to calm them down.

"Get out of the car!" The man screamed, desperate for the driver to escape. He wavered between staying there and running off.

"Be quiet and stop moving." Dave ordered, opening his door and getting out with shaky legs. He slammed the door and watched as the zombies in the back pressed their faces up against the glass, trying to get outside. As Dave surveyed the damage, he was glad that they hadn't broken that specific window out.

Taking a second to see the amount of damage done to his car, he instantly knew that he would not be able to salvage it. The front of it had taken the brunt of the blow, but the crumple zones had done their job. Clemens, who was still sitting in the passenger seat, seemed undamaged. It seemed that the airbag could save even the undead. He was already trying to climb across the passenger seat towards Dave and the other man. Sensing the uneasiness of his new friend, Dave slammed his door shut before Clemens could make it across.

"Were you driving with those fucking things?" The man said, not believing it. His eyes were almost as large as dinner plates, and Dave would have found his expression funny under normal circumstances.

"Yeah, now can we please step away from the car so they stop going crazy over you?" He put a hand on the man's back and led him away from the wreck. He would grab everything he could from the wreck later, but he had some explaining to do.

"Look, I know it's impossible." He started, interrupting whatever the man was about to say. "But they don't attack me." He paused for a moment to let it sink in. "Now, I may not be able to read their minds, but I don't think they will act the same around you." The man agreed and looked over Dave's shoulder to the single car crash.

"Why?" It was all he could ask. Why was it that this guy could drive around with those infected and he couldn't? It was unfair.

"I don't know." Dave responded, sticking his hand out. "I'm Dave by the way." The man in front of him took his hand and shook it.

"I'm Ian." Dave examined him, noticing that he was wearing camouflage. It was very similar to the stuff those men who had attacked the motorcade were wearing.

"Now I'm going to go get the stuff from my car." He looked Ian right in the eyes. "Don't move." He waited for the man to nod, and then Dave turned around and walked the short distance back to the crash. Something about the man put him off, but he would trust him for now. He was the only living person he had encountered for a while.

When he arrived, he found that they were still trying to get out. The glass on the back window was starting to crack, but it still managed to hold them back. Still, Dave wanted to do this quickly so they wouldn't have a chance to escape.

"Back!" He ordered, feeling like he was commanding a disobedient puppy. "Get back!" At such an importune time, the light headed feeling came back to him just as he opened the back door. It was manageable this time though, and he quickly grabbed the trash bags from the back. The zombies moved away from his intruding hand as he found the bags and ripped them away from the car. He threw them behind him on the ramp and then slammed the door shut. Moving to the driver's door, he found that Clemens was still pressed up against the glass.

"I said move!" He shouted, forcing Clemens back. The zombie finally complied and allowed Dave to open the door. Once he had a hand in, Dave grabbed the rifle that had been flung around the front of the car, and then he quickly pressed the button to pop the trunk open. Once again, Dave closed the door on the zombie and headed for the back of the car.

While he was doing all of this, Ian couldn't believe the level of control this Dave guy had over those monsters. He shouted, and they shrunk back and followed his orders. As he watched Dave pull several long guns from his trunk, a plan began forming in his mind. His former friends had left him twistling in the wind before, but he was about to get payback.

When Dave finally got back to him, he was struggling to juggle both the guns and the trash bags. Ian helped him with the guns, and Dave sat the bags on the ground beside them. With Dave's hands now free, Ian handed him one of the machine guns and then grabbed one for himself. He hadn't held an actual machine gun before as he had only fired bolt action rifles. This new gun gave him a boost of courage.

"What's in the bags?" He asked Dave, wondering if it was food or something else.

"Whatever I could find that was useful." Dave dipped down into one of the bags and produced a bag of chips. "It's food mostly." He tore the bag open and stuffed a hand inside. "I think we deserve something to eat." Ian couldn't agree more, so he dived into the bag himself.

"This is so good." He managed to say while eating. He was hungry and hadn't had this brand of chips in a long time.

After their little snack, Dave simply tossed the bag on the ground. He knew no one was here to complain, and it didn't exactly change anything anyway. Houses were burning, a chip bag wouldn't make a huge impact.

"What do we do now?" Ian asked, filling in the role of a follower once more. He watched as Dave examined their surroundings and sighed.

"I don't really know now." He glanced back at his ruined car. "That was my only transportation, and I still need to get into New York."

"What are you going there for?" Ian immediately realized that it was a stupid question. Dave was obviously trying to outrun the infection.

"Well, I got separated from a few friends of mine, and I know where they are headed." Ian nodded, now glad that he had asked. "What were you doing vaulting over concrete barriers?" Ian couldn't help but laugh now that he looked back at the incident. But then he realized that this may be his chance to get back at his former group.

"I was attacked by a group of guys and I was just running from them." He saw Dave stiffen up, as if he had just been caught in a huge lie, which was what the story actually was. "What?" He said, noting the reaction.

"What did these guys look like?" Dave asked, suddenly interested. "Were they wearing camouflage, using machine guns?" He felt like these may have been the same guys that attacked his convoy.

"Yeah." Ian responded, suddenly suspicious that Dave had pointed out a few details. "Why?" Ian suddenly realized that Dave was very angry.

"Because they might have been the same guys that attacked me." Ian couldn't believe his luck. This was going to be easier than he thought.

"What happened?" He asked, digging deeper into Dave's story.

"I was travelling with a group of people and they just jumped out of the woods and tried to grab us." Ian suddenly felt a little sick to his stomach. He had been involved in that. But then he felt glad that it had happened. Here this Dave guy was, practically asking to be used for his own revenge plan.

"Go on." He urged, wanting more details.

"They shot some of us but I managed to get away from them." Ian remembered his escape and put two and two together. Dave must have been the one in the van. Ian had seen the thing dive off the side of the road himself. "I've been looking for someone who was in the group. Her name is Natalie." The name didn't ring any bells for Ian, but it didn't matter. He knew where she was being kept, if she was even still alive.

"I know where they are." He said suddenly. Dave's face lit up, surprised that his new friend would know where to find them. His objectives just changed. He may not have an obvious way into New York, but he could still save Natalie, even Rick.

"Where?" Ian already had Dave on the hook, and all he had to do was reel him in.

"They are in some kind of camp just a few miles from here. I can bring you to them if you want." He could already guess Dave's answer.

"Take me there." Ian would happily oblige.