ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Ten

New York City is not our next stop. Ryan and I consult the map until we find a road that runs parallel to the interstate, and we hop on it. If we can stay close to the main road, then it will cut down the time of our trip considerably. It's more dangerous being this close to the interstate, considering all the zombies that have wandered away from the car wrecks, but we decide to risk it for a bit anyway and see how it goes.

Ryan knows how urgently I need to get to New York, and I really appreciate him coming with me. I don't know what I would have done on my own.

We drive in silence for hours, and despite the life-threatening danger, I'm bored out of my mind. I will freely admit that I am a child of technology, and, in between all the running for my life and bashing zombies, it's been a huge adjustment. I don't know how many times I've reached over to turn on the radio, without thinking, only to find nothing but static.

Ryan glances over at me every time I do this, but thankfully he doesn't comment. He isn't very talkative either, and I can't help but feel that he's still pissed at me for hugging the Sargent. I roll my eyes as I stare out the window at the bleak landscape around us.

Walking corpses dot the fields and roam around, staring mindlessly at the ground until we pass by. I watch as their decaying heads snap up and scent the air. It causes a sick feeling to worm its way into my belly.

Ryan eases off the gas pedal, and I turn quickly from the passenger window to see what terrible thing has befallen us now. Ryan's gaze is intently fixed on a car up ahead that has veered off the road and crashed into a telephone pole. Four zombies claw viciously at it, trying to get in.

"What are you doing?" I ask in a whisper, even though I know the zombies probably can't hear me.

"I think someone's in that car," Ryan says after a minute of intense staring, and I gape at him.

"How do you know?" I can't help asking. I don't mean to be argumentative, but I don't want to be the kind of girl that blindly follows anymore either.

Ryan points to the zombies, "Because they want in so bad."

That makes sense to me, I haven't seen the zombies care about anything other than living, breathing humans so far. "We need to help them," I say.

Ryan nods without hesitation.

I can see that the back window is broken out and a zombie has already managed to shove half his torso through the jagged hole. I look away from the black sludge that's leaking down the trunk of the car. "We don't have much time," I press.

Ryan scans the surrounding area, "I don't think we should risk shooting guns, we are too close to the interstate and it will bring more of them."

I feel a sense of dread; I know what he's going to say.

"If we're quiet, they might stay distracted, and we can sneak up on them."

I nod in resignation as he shuts off the truck and hands me my fire poker.

"Try stabbing this time, instead of beating," he tells me.

I feel the granola bar that I ate for lunch trying to make a comeback. Our feet fall silently on the paved road as we approach the car. Ryan gives me a meaningful nod and then fans out away from me, using the large knife in his hand to spear the first zombie through the base of its skull. The zombie's knees buckle, and he falls to the ground; the momentum pulls the knife clean from his rotting skull.

I approach the closest zombie and aim carefully for the back of his head. Using two hands, I attempt to ram the poker like a spear. It bounces off the zombie's hard skull and lodges into the zed's neck instead. The zombie twitches like a bolt of lightning runs through him and then falls to the ground. He doesn't seem to be dead because his eyes are blinking up at me, but he also isn't moving so I am pretty sure that I've managed to sever his spinal cord—it's good to know that works.