Chapter 4: The Getaway

This is great. This is just great.

"How do you forget to bring extra fucking tires!" I shout to Tallahassee. I'm normally not the kind of person who gets angry, but this is big.

"Didn't think we'd need 'em." He says, shrugging.

"Didn't think we'd nee—we're in a goddamn zombie apocalypse! Filled with sharp things that could not only kill us, but the tires too."

"Well, if you're such a smart-ass, why didn't you pack the tires?"

"You told me not to! Somethin' about how since you're the badass, you get to pick what goes in the car."

He laughs. "Oh right, forgot about that."

Before I could retort, Little Rock comes in between us, her arms raised. "Guys, just calm down." She says. "Arguing won't help."

"She is right." Tallahassee points out.

I glare at him, then Little Rock, then Wichita. "Fine, I'll calm down." I grumble. "But we still should have brought extra tires." Shoulda, woulda, coulda. I had to admit, there really was no sense dwelling on the mistakes of the past. Doing so could get us all killed.

"So what do we do now?" I say, pacing around the wrecked SUV.

"We need to get moving, that's what." Wichita replies, her eyes watching both sides of the road. "I'm willing to bet that a whole rabble of flesh-eating zombies is coming our way right now."

"From which direction?" Little Rock asks.

"Could be north, could be south, could even be from the fields around us." Tallahassee answers.

"So, which way do we go?" I query, though I know the answer.

"Well, since we're going to Canada, I guess we go north." Wichita says, shouldering her purse.

"Alright then," Tallahassee remarks "Get all the stuff you need, and let's go for a walk."

So we do just that. Since we have to travel light, we cannot bring our big ol' bag of guns-much to Tallahassee's dismay, so we are left choosing which firearms each of us wants to bring. I of course, have already chosen, having picked out my pistol, and refilled my Ziplock bag of shotgun shells. Wichita decides to stick with her own semi-automatic shotgun and pistol as well, while Little Rock settled for a lighter submachine gun. Tallahassee was a different story. He decided to load himself up real good. Holstered at his sides were two Uzis, and on his back, an M1 Carbine and a .45 calibre rifle along with the usual auto-loading shotgun at his thigh. In his bullet-proof vest, he stashed all the ammunition he needed. Hell, he even found a katana in the depths of that duffel bag, though, for the safety of us all, decided not to bring it along.

"Ya'll ready?" He asks, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Yeah, let's go." I say.

...

"So how far do you think we are from Canada?" Little Rock asks, after walking a good distance away from the wreckage. She shines her flashlight on the road ahead. It is deserted.

"Very far," I answer "It would take us forever to get there on foot."

After seeing the look of dismay on her face, I quickly add, "It would help improve our cardio though."

Wichita smiles, rolling her eyes, "Because everyone knows cardio is the most important thing in the world."

"Besides seatbelts, that is." I say.

"Of course, silly me." She adds

Gurk! I stop. What the hell was that?

"Hold on. Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Wichita asks.

"Just listen."

Gurk! There it was again, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. It was coming from—

"Behind us!" I shout, whirling around, shining the flashlight. Wichita, Tallahassee, and Little Rock do the same. It was just as I had suspected, zombies. A lot of zombies. Instinctively, we pull the triggers on our guns, mowing down the lot. I killed the least, as I had to reload after every two shots, and I'm willing to bet Tallahassee killed the most. I wonder if we should implement a scoreboard, just to see how many he gets.

"Was that all of 'em?" I ask no one in particular.

Tallahassee shakes his head, nearly throwing off the cowboy hat planted upon it. "These are just stragglers, and our gunshots have alerted the rest of the pack." As if on cue, a multitude of groans and shrieks pierce the night sky. I shine my flashlight down the back road. Holy shit was the only thought that ran through my mind. The road—every square inch of it—was occupied by zombies, numbering in the hundreds.

"Sh-shall we take them on?" I stutter, my hands shaking.

Tallahassee steps back, eyes widening at the sheer enormity of the zombie army. "You know what," he says, "I think I'm a little tired today…"

"Run?" I ask.

"Yeah, run." And we do.

...

"Keep going!" I shout, running ahead of the group. Risking a turn, I see Little Rock straggling behind. Falling back a little, I grab her arm and pull her along. "Go!"

The zombies behind us were in full pursuit, their arms swinging like giant motors. Pointing my gun back, I fire, taking down a zombie that was getting dangerously close. Tallahassee was doing something different. He was running backwards, like one of those bad-ass movie guys that never go down. He had both of his Uzis in his hands and was constantly firing them, killing zombies in their dozens. Breathing heavily, I angle my flashlight towards the road ahead, trying to see the horizon. Instead of a deserted road, the beam of light shone upon yet another horde of zombies. It was at that moment that I had to suppress screaming like a frightened little girl.

"Turn!" I yell; my voice oddly high pitched. I sense Wichita about to ask why, but then figure an answer is not needed after hearing her say, "Shit."

"C'mon," she says, dragging her sister to the side of the road. She points at a forest. "Hurry, lets lose them in there.

Initially, I would have said "No freaking way!" as I'm a little—okay, very afraid of dark forests. Something about those mangled tree branches just seems to get me, as if they were arms, waiting to pick me up and eat me. But, considering our current predicament, I decide to face my fear. To the forest I go! Gulp.

"Go, go, go!" I shout, shakily. It was a downhill charge, and we start picking up speed, putting more distance between us and the now combined zombie forces. In a matter of seconds, we reach the forest, and run through its dark and muddy depths.

"Just keep going, "I hear Wichita pant.

Tallahassee, silent the entire time, fires off a couple rounds at any of the zombies that decide to follow us, killing about a dozen of them with razor-sharp accuracy. "Let's keep goin'," He says, running deeper into the forest. Soon enough, they lose track of us, and we lose track of them, which may not be good thing, considering where we are. I have a gut-wrenching feeling this forest is anything but safe.