Malevolent. The Walking Dead

[ 002 ] glove upon a drum

002: glove upon a drum

The rough terrain of the road as Bill tried to maneuver around the potholes littering the pavement jerked Joey awake. It had stopped raining at that point, the morning sun seeping through the sunroof and piercing the small cut that was on her cheekbone. Her throat was dry and no matter how many times she moved her tongue around in her mouth it felt as though she was swallowing sandpaper. Bill looked at her stirring in the rearview mirror and readjusted his hands on the steering wheel. He reached forward for the canister of water and threw it back to her. She was so hungry it hurt to swallow the water, and her neck strained as she sat up. "Don't drink all of it, kid," he ordered beckoning his hand to give it back to her. A stream or two dribbled down her chin as she gave it back. "Sorry,"

Bill took a swig and pushed it back into his bag - it was obvious he had been drinking it on the interstate. He pulled out of an exit. "How far away are we?"

"We're in Los Banos right now. 'Bout an hour and a half drive to San Jose. We're almost outta gas though, and it's about a day's trip on foot ━ and we're most likely not going to find any gas, but we can try," he answered, pulling into the desolate city ━ and Joey saw a sign. Welcome to the Historic Los Banos, At the Crossroads of California. She cringed. It was a ghost town now. They came to a literal cross road, with two streets diverging at the end of the interstate, completely riddled with cars. Joey crawled up to the front seat. "Oh no . . . no, no no," Bill muttered to himself. There was already grass growing from the cracks in the concrete, and every car was piled atop each other. Joey scrunch her face up in confusion, but let out a yawn. "Now what?" she asked, and he sighed heavily and obviously which made Joey retreat back into her seat. Long As I Can See the Light played off the stereo, as the CD played on repeat for the duration of their trip. Bill glanced back at the end of the interstate, contemplating whether to go back and take another route instead of cutting through the city, or to go the diversion to the right and make it an extra scenic trip. "Screw it," he muttered, putting the truck into drive and steering right.

Joey looked out the windows at the many buildings as they passed by. A few rotters remained outside, and she tried to imagine what they looked like before they turned. Brown hair, maybe a delicate tan, perhaps a few freckles from the exposure to the California sun. Were they always that skinny? Or was their skin deteriorating faster than others?

She never realized the importance of people in a city like this, or in any place. The physical presence of living people is what gave a city, a town, a country life. With the absence of people, it was scary. Despite it being the morning it felt as though the night was creeping behind them at all times, waiting to take over. When it did turn to evening, the crickets and other creatures of the night didn't sing their soulful tunes. Darkness set in fast and not even the moon could relish their craving for something alive.

She didn't even realize a man, alive, stumbling in front of their truck until Bill slammed on the breaks, her getting jerked forward. "Easy,"

She nearly gasped at the sight of him. He was distraught, bloody (whether it was his own or someone else's, she didn't know) and he was clutching at his abdomen, pleading for help. "Holy shit," she breathed, "Are we gonna help him?"

"Put your seatbelt on, Joey," Bill ordered, and she looked between him and the man frantically. The guy was still groaning and pleading, now limping toward them. "W ━ Well what about the guy?" she asked as she clicked her seatbelt into place, and Bill shook his head, reaching for the gear. "He ain't even hurt," he laid on the gas pedal, and Joey reached to grab onto the handle above the window. The guy released his hold on his abdomen and reached for his pistol, shooting into the windshield. "Go, go!" he cried, as other men appeared from behind the cars and ambushed the truck. Joey screamed, other hand reaching to grab the bar above the glove department, getting thrown back as they hit the man in front of them. The others chased them, throwing bricks and shooting at the car, to which Bill had to swerve away from their rapid gunfire. Another psycho came running up to the passenger side window, and slammed a shovel into the window, shattering the glass and sending the shards into Joey's face. She would've been dead had she not leaned towards the center console and protected her head.