Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Thirty-Two

Jayson: Part II

Agony writhed like an uncontrolled fire in strong wind. Each movement, every bump in the pockmarked road, stole Jayson's breath from his lungs, especially when Billy seemed to purposely hit them all.

When something heavy hit the car, causing it to jolt as if they'd run over a small animal, Jayson released a strangled yelp.

Gentle, calluses fingers swept Jayson's unkempt hair from his temples — a reminder he hadn't had a haircut in a month. The touch was soothing, despite the pinching in Jayson's side, making him long for more. "We're almost there," Eli whispered. "The roads were already bad before the apocalypse. The last storm, combined with mosotalv cocktails made it worse."

That was one way to fend against Soapies and would-be thugs. Unfortunately, it was a grim outlook for humanity and proof people never stopped fighting.

Jayson said nothing, digging his nails into the torn seats as they went over another bump. About five minutes passed before the car slowed, squealing with the breaks. A window came down on the driver's side, and fresh air filled the vehicle's interior.

Voices carried inside as Billy greeted someone. "Oscar, how's the watch goin'?"

"Another stray?" A deep voice, presumably Oscar's, asked. Derision dripped from his words, combined with a touch of resentment.

Opening his eyes, Jayson tried to sit up only for a flash of pain to keep him down; helpless at the mercy of strangers who clearly didn't want him there.

"Eli insisted," Billy huffed.

A groan followed. "Ugh, so no supplies then?"

"Just a couple of guns and the bag this guy had on him."

"Which still belong to him," Eli snapped, body turning rigid beneath Jayson's head. "We found him outside of town in a crashed military truck. We need to get him to Miss Gloria, so shut up and let us through."

If Jayson could hug this guy and weep, he would. He didn't ask to be brought here, but the deed was done. Supplies were probably short and in high demand everywhere, setting everyone on edge when they also had to worry about keeping the undead out. Still, humanity wouldn't survive if people didn't work together. Even Jayson understood he couldn't make it on his own.

The car moved again; tires crunching over gravel and engine shuddering. Voices carried from outside, ranging from conversation to barked orders. A rich, earthy odor combined with petrichor preceding rain invaded Jayson's nose — a welcome change from decomposing bodies or a sterile research facility.

Stopping, Billy cranked the parking break and exited the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. Then he opened the door closest to Eli. "If he turns out anything like that last guy, I'm popping' a cap in his ass."

"Shut up," Eli growled, shifting so Jayson lay flat on the seat. Then a pair of arms slid under his armpits, pulling him out.

Determined to stand and avoid being carried bridal style again, Jayson reached for the car's frame, clinging to it for support. His legs shook for a moment, but at least he was upright on his own.

"Oh, look at you tryna be tough," Billy mocked. "Too good to accept help? 'Fraid of a couple of brothas?"

"SHUT UP!"

Silence followed Eli's outburst as his voice echoed across the flat parking lot in front of a two-story motel. Heads from every angle snapped in the trio's direction as doors creaked open from various rooms or people sat straighter in rickety plastic chairs around a barrel.