Heartland Junk - Part I: The End (A zombie apocalypse serial)

Chapter 9: River

The urban district of Joshuah Hill covers roughly two square miles and, due to the ineffable wisdom of our founding fathers, somehow got mapped into the rough shape of a lumpy pear on its side with a worm climbing out the bottom. We came in on foot from the west, parallel to the old railway farther north and Joshuah Creek to the south, following River Street past the remaining suburban homes until the familiar sight of the town park crawled into sight on our left. The hot sun beamed down just behind us, pooling our shadows onto the pavement under our feet and making me sweat. Rivet lifted his safety goggles to his forehead and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. I was getting thirsty, but didn't want to bother stopping until we'd got what we came for.

Ahead, River Street continued into the fat bottom of the pear and became Joshuah Hill's main street. I think its name was supposed to change to 1st Street somewhere in there—we had a 2nd and 3rd streets—but I guess someone forgot to mention that to the sign-makers, so it was River all the way through. Of course, there wasn't a river within fifty miles of us either, so it's possible that nobody gave a shit either way when it came to naming the avenues and byways of our quaint little community.

The park began on the town side of Carrborough and ran about a block along the northern edge of River Street. On the edge of the park closest to the road was a small duck pond that cut under Safehaven Road and nudged all the way up to Collins Hardware, and behind the pond were several dozen green sugar maples, pecans, poplars, and white ash that provided shading for the manicured lawn below. Normally, a few elderly couples walked the mulch pathways or people-watched on the hickory benches, but today the place was silent. Even the ducks and squirrels seemed to have taken refuge.

We trolled up River past the park, somehow back in the middle of the road, astride the double yellow lines. By now we should be seeing the murmur of activity that kept downtown Joshuah Hill alive during the work week, but as with all else, the place was draped in silence.

On the other side of River, opposite the park, was a steep gully that led to a runoff ditch, then rose up again to a patch of woods. It runs through a cement culvert under Troutman Boulevard, then falls away from the road to make room for a row of small shops and businesses—a barbershop, a delicatessen, a nail salon. Just past the salon and the hardware store, 3rd Street cut up from the south and turned into 2nd on the north side of River. Beyond that, we had the graystone courthouse followed by the sheriff's department on our left, and The Antiquey Torch, Dinkins Pharmacy, and H.R. Gibson & Sons Law Firm in a pretty row on our right.

Parked cars hulked in angled spaces on either side of River, and Collins Hardware's little lot was packed to its four-car capacity, yet not a single person was in sight.

"It's like a ghost town," Jennie said. "God, I wish we hadn't left Titan. This is creepy."

"It's hot enough to bake a duck," Rivet said. "What is this, July?"

"June," I corrected, not really thinking about it. Rivet's head was usually weeks ahead or weeks behind, but rarely in the present. I was used to it.

I could see the courthouse about two hundred yards farther up now, and I knew Dinkins was just opposite. Almost there.

Maybe it was the heat, making me sweat. The walk, pumping my blood faster. I stumbled. Jennie caught my arm and hauled me up, never breaking stride.

"Whoa there, cowboy. You're cut off," she joked. "All good?"

I nodded, blinking away sweat. The domed top of the courthouse dimmed, then came back, then seemed to topple, and my knee hit the pavement again. The road tilted sideways. Was that a person ahead? Walking up a wall? No, not a wall. Just River. My head lolled straight, and Joshuah Hill corrected itself. Yeah, a person. I squinted. God, I was sweating. Heat stroke? We'd only been out here fifteen minutes, couldn't be.