Cameron snorted when he woke up. He opened a bleary eye to see that some light was coming over the horizon. The clock said it was half past five.
"Where are we?"
"We entered Wisconsin a while ago."
"Had any problems?"
Marge shrugged. "Aside from being chased a by a few hordes of those things, it was peachy. Also had to stop to fill up."
That opened Cameron's eyes wide open. "You shoulda woke me up to keep guard!"
"I was fine."
"You were retarded!"
"Mommy?" the kid said groggily.
"Thanks a lot, Cameron!" Marge said harshly. "It's okay, honey, just relax." She reached back with her right hand to give her son a squeeze.
A few minutes went by in silence. Jack kept on staring at Cameron. The kid was a ginger just like his mom (That you, South Park, he thought with a wry smile). He was probably just a regular little kid, curious about the world, had friends at school. But so was Cameron. There was nothing spectacular about himself that he thought deserved to keep on living in such a harsh world. Still, here Cameron was.
"Who are you?" the kid asked.
"A friend."
"Mommy, can we go home?"
"We can't, sweetheart," Marge said sadly. "We have to find a new one."
"Why? Are there monsters there too?"
Marge seemed to be thinking of a gentle answer. "I don't know, but just in case we aren't going back."
Jack was not in a good mood—though neither was Cameron, so he didn't give the kid any mind.
Another hour passed, the sun came up completely, and only scattered groups of zombies appeared ever so often.
"There's a gas station up ahead," Marge stated, looking at a passing sign.
Cameron, who had been staring mindlessly out the window, said, "How much we have left?"
"A third empty."
"That's plenty."
"We'd better take this opportunity."
Fuck, she had a point. "I'll drive."
When the gas station was in sight, so were two-dozen zombies stumbling about. Bring it on, you fucks. One zombie caught sight of them in the car, it howled, the rest noticed too, and it turned into a stampede.
Cameron stomped on the gas pedal, and he zoomed towards the horde. As the car slammed into the zombies, in the back Marge put her arms around Jack. They cleared it without a problem, and after a hundred yards or so Cameron turned around to see the horde coming at them again.
He then got an idea. "Marge, stick the shovel out the window—hold onto it tight."
After doing as she was asked, Cameron floored it again. She had a hard time keeping the shovel in hand as it smacked against zombie after zombie. When Cameron turned around and went ahead with his third attack, Marge had to abandon the shovel idea after she got smacked in the head with the handle.
Cameron made six more passes until only one was left standing, three limping slowly, and ten dragging themselves one the ground. He made a seventh one to make sure he killed the standing one. It went without saying that his car was taking a serious beating.
Sighing, he watched the ones that were still moving. He saw it as too much trouble to run over all those one-by-one, so Cameron went with a different strategy.
"Fuck it, gimme the shovel," Cameron said, reaching out for it.
"Just run them over!" Marge exclaimed.
"Nah, I'll just finish it off personally. And if I end up getting bit, can you do me the favor of putting me outta my misery?"
Marge gave him a puzzled look before saying, "You're the retarded one! Just use the damn car."
"Just give it to me."
Rolling her eyes, Marge handed him the shovel before getting the gun ready.
And so Cameron got out of the car, checked his surrounding for any other zombies, and proceeded to the nearest limper. It got wilder and snarled more as Cameron approached, limping faster.
"Say goodnight, fuck face." Cameron swung the shovel like a baseball bat, taking the zombie to the ground. Without hesitation, he stepped on its neck and stabbed the shovel downwards penetrating the skull. It stopped half way through and skewed off the head a bit, but it got the job done.
It was the same story with the remaining mobile zombies, as one-by-one each one had its head cleaved off.
"Thank you," Cameron heard after making sure all the things were dead. "Thank you so much." He looked to see a man coming out of the gas station's store, limping and looking sickly. Cameron noticed dried blood down his leg.
"Fuck," Cameron breathed as Marge came forward with the car.
"I was chased here all the way from the nearest town," he explained. "I've been stuck in there since last night."
"Were you bitten by those things?" Cameron asked.
"Well, uh, one got me on the leg, but it's no big deal."
Marge got out of the car, thankfully with the gun in hand.
"Whatever, just glad we could help. Why don't you take one of these cars and leave?" There were two other cars parked at the gas station, but the guy looked hesitant.
"Hate to ask, but can't I bum a ride with you guys?" he asked pleadingly.
"Don't think so," Marge said flatly.
"Why not!"
Marge pulled the gun on him. "Cause we can't, got it?"
"WHY? Just take me to a safe zone, then I could get treated!"
Hasn't anybody heard of zombies or infected? Cameron thought miserably. Didn't anybody else realize that they were in that kind of situation? That there was no cure? That there was only one way out of ending up as one of the living dead? But then again what would Cameron have thought if he was bitten at the start?
"Should we kill him?" Cameron whispered as quietly as possible to Marge.
"You wanna do it?" she asked.
He sighed. "I can't."
Marge set the gun down. "We have our reasons. Now go or I shoot you."
"Okay, okay." The man went to both cars, and said, "There are no keys for either."
"Then check those thing's pockets," Cameron said impatiently. "C'mon, we gotta fill the car up."
Cameron did his best to ignore the man as he stumbled around checking every pocket for a set of keys. It's not like he was heartless, but what other choice was there? And in the mean time Marge was keeping an eye out for other zombies (including the man, in case he died and reanimated in front of them).
After filling up the gas cans too, they got back in the car and drove off.
"ASSHOLES!" the man screamed as they passed.
"Maybe we should have killed him," Cameron said, on edge.
"Well neither of us had the guts, so it couldn't be helped."
"Mommy, I'm hungry," Jack said from the back.
"Take whatever you want from the bags, sweetie."
Marge sighed and started playing with the GPS again. "Looks like we're southwest of Madison. Once we're far enough north we'd better turn west before we end up in Lake Superior."
"Sure," Cameron agreed tiredly, trying to get his mind back on the road. If we make it that far.