The Last Outbreak (Book 3): Desperation Page 20

  “Siphon?”

  “My dad always carried a pump. It’s in the back where the tire jack is. We just need to pull alongside another car and hope it has fuel.”

  “How soon?”

  “We should probably start looking within the next hour or so. If we can get a full tank, we won’t have to do this more than once before we get to the coast.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything that has a tank facing out toward the road.”

  Nearly three hours had passed and the group was growing restless. Ethan had begun to nod off more times than either he or Shannon could count and their only focus had become finding a suitable vehicle or two from which to pull the thirty-one gallons of unleaded fuel that they’d need.

  Frank sat along the back row with Helen and Ben as Griffin and Carly occupied the second row. Reaching Interstate Fifteen, they’d all picked a color and now watched the roadside for the next grouping of motionless vehicles.

  Griffin had picked first and chose black, while Carly went in the opposite direction and took white. Frank couldn’t initially decide, but after much peer pressure, asked if navy blue was too precise for the color of a car.

  Griffin quickly chimed in from one row up. “Hey Frank, how about we just give you every shade of blue?”

  From the driver’s seat, Ethan rushed his answer and was met with a round of laughter as he decided on green. He argued that it was as good a color as any, and that the odds of finding a green vehicle had to be within a few percentage points of the others.

  Unable to control her laughter, Shannon quickly chose grey and seemed pleased with herself as she continued to ridicule Ethan over his justification of why he took the color he did. “Since when did you get so analytical? I mean before you never use to—”

  Ethan yawned hard, rubbed at his eyes, and cut Shannon short. “There are tons of things you didn’t know about me, and vice versa. You know, like the fact that in all the time we worked together, I don’t think I’d ever seen you smile, let alone laugh. Who knew you had a sense of humor?”

  “Emma did.”

  Ethan turned quickly to her, taking his eyes off the long dusty highway that stretched out before them. He wasn’t upset. It just felt weird to again hear his sister’s name coming out of Shannon’s mouth. They were still nearly five hundred miles from the coast and he had been trying to avoid thinking about things he had no control over.

  Ben was next, and noticing that Ethan struggled to respond, decided to jump in. The youngest of the group, decided on a color that seemed to reflect his own personal style, as well as being an obvious choice that no one else had claimed. “Are you all serious? Doesn’t anyone know that twenty percent of all cars manufactured are red?”

  From two seat away, Frank shot back, “Sorry kid, it’s only like ten percent, same with blue. And Ethan, just so you’re aware, I believe green is like three or four percent.”

  “Yeah,” Ethan said, “I’d never doubt you when it comes to numbers.”

  The SUV fell into silence as the group waited for Helen to chime in. She didn’t appear to be paying attention, and instead had been staring out the window for the last several minutes.

  “Mom,” Ethan said from the front seat.

  She only half turned away from the window. “Yes Ethan?”

  “How about you? What color car you think we’ll end up getting gas from?”

  Giving a slight grin to the others, she said, “I think I’ll go with green.”

  Ben leaned to his right and whispered, “Ethan already took that color.”

  Helen pointed out through the windshield at the single-file line of vehicles pushed to the left shoulder at the side of the highway. “Yeah, but he was right.”

  43

  The air was warm and dry as Ethan lowered all four windows of the dirty black SUV. Before cutting the engine, he made note of the remaining fuel and the time. Closing his eyes, he sat quietly in the driver’s seat and breathed slowly in and out. He listened to the sounds from beyond the cab, waiting for something other than the rustling foliage to move.

  After sixty seconds of nothing but warm wind kicking through the truck stop parking lot, Ethan opened his eyes and looked around. The line of twelve vehicles his mother had seen now sat a hundred yards away, on the opposite shoulder. The suspicious grouping faced the wrong direction and had their passenger doors open to the road.

  The last in line, a large dark green military transport vehicle, had its front bumper pushed up against a blue pickup truck. In front of that, another ten random vehicles, all end to end. Ethan imagined that there had to have been a purpose to the odd grouping, but at present, nothing logical was coming to mind.

  Reaching for the handle, Ethan opened his door and stepped out. He carried the same two weapons he had since leaving the city, and with two additional magazines, he closed the door and began to move away from the SUV.

  “Wait,” Griffin said, as he fumbled to open the rear driver’s door and then stepped out. “Where in the hell are you going?”

  “Probably best if I do this alone. Less chance to be seen, less of a target.”

  “That’s not how this works. No one goes anywhere alone anymore, you know that. It was something we all decided together. I don’t understand your fascination with the lone wolf thing.” Griffin leaned in close. “These people need you.”

  “Okay, then who stays here with them?”

  Griffin turned back to the SUV and eyed Frank. “Can you drive this thing?”

  Frank nodded and then moved from the last row into the driver’s seat. He slipped in next to Shannon and decided to offer his opinion. “Why don’t we all just go?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I can’t see what’s beyond the shoulder, not yet anyway.”

  “Okay,” Griffin said, “you and I go check the area, Frank follows from a safe distance. We’re going to need the truck over here eventually anyway. If things go sideways, we’ll hop back in and get the hell out of here.”

  Ethan liked his own plan better. The parking lot was flat, had no blind spots, and from where they sat, not even the twenty-four-hour diner posed a problem. He could quickly check the line of forgotten vehicles, find one or two that they could siphon, and then wave them over. Anything short of that and they’d all be heading toward the unknown.

  Moving back to the SUV, Ethan avoided eye contact with his mother and turned to Frank. “If anything, I mean anything at all looks even a little bit off, you do not hesitate to drive away. You good with that?”

  “Yes,” Frank said. “I’ll stay back enough to make sure there aren’t any surprises.”

  Turning back to Griffin, he’d concede for the moment. He still didn’t like the idea of all seven of them rolling toward the row of stalled vehicles, but as long as Frank stayed at a safe distance, he was willing to try it their way.

  As Frank started the massive SUV, a small flock of crows sitting on the roof of the twenty-four-hour diner turned toward the sound and took flight. As they lifted into the air, and began to caw in unison, Ethan patted Griffin on the shoulder and motioned toward the line of vehicles.

  “Aren’t crows supposed to be good luck?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I guess as long as we believe it, then it doesn’t really matter.”

  They quickly crossed over the interstate, kicking a trail of dust up into the sky as they moved through the area between the north and south bound lanes. With Ethan and Griffin making their way onto the soft shoulder and now less than twenty yards from the line of cars, trucks, and vans, Frank rolled the SUV to a stop in the number one lane.

  All eyes were on Ethan and Griffin as they quickly moved from one vehicle to the next, never stopping to look inside for more than a few seconds each. As Ethan reached the military transport vehicle, he slowly stepped up next to the cab and peered inside from behind the driver’s window. The same as all the rest, nothing.

  Shouting back to Frank, Ethan said, “Let’
s get started at the front.” He then quickly leapt to the ground, and started back toward the end of the line.

  Striding quickly back to the others alongside Ethan, Griffin said, “I’ll check the cars for supplies. You want to try the diner once we’re finished here?”

  “I’m good with that, but let’s get through this first.”

  He watched as Griffin retrieved a plastic bag from the back of the SUV and then moved off. Starting with the red two-door coupe at the end of the line, Ethan grabbed the siphon pump and helped Frank pull alongside.

  Opening the fuel door on the SUV, Ethan dropped one end of the hose in and hurried to get the pump set up. Within minutes, the red coupe was bone dry and Ethan estimated he’d maybe pulled out five gallons.

  On to the next vehicle, a silver minivan, Ethan again dropped the pump hose in and went to work. This time he’d gone a full five minutes before the pump started pulling in air. This was progress. Another ten minutes and they’d have one less thing to worry about.

  Moving on, Ethan waved Frank forward, and as they pulled alongside the next vehicle, Ethan had him leave the engine running. “Where we at?”

  “About half a tank,” Frank said. “We’re almost there.”

  At his back, Ethan watched Griffin dig into the next vehicle. His friend disappeared headfirst behind the driver’s door and began searching the glove box and in between the seats. He worked quickly and was done with the car in less time than it took Ethan and Frank to scope the next vehicle.

  Walking backward, Ethan stopped at the next in line, a large white pickup truck. He scanned the body front to back and again waved Frank forward. “Tank’s on the other side, let’s move on to the next one.”

  The next one, a mid-sized SUV, similar to the one Josie had driven, sat at a slight angle to the others. Ethan guided Frank forward and then hurried to begin the pumping process yet once again. And as the fuel began to flow, the interior rear of his own vehicle exploded in a flurry of frantic voices.

  Ben could be heard above the others as he pointed out through the passenger side windows. Sliding into the second row, he reached with his left hand for a nine millimeter pistol Griffin had left, and winced as he leaned into the door.

  “Ethan, we’ve got company.”

  Leaning into the hood, Ethan could see why the others were shouting over one another, attempting to gain his attention. No less than two dozen Feeders had walked away from the twenty-four-hour diner and were now stumbling across the deserted interstate.

  Four lanes and a small patch of dirt were all that separated them from the horde, and in less than thirty seconds, the entire shoulder would be overrun. Moving first to the rear of the mid-sized SUV, Ethan ripped free the hose and pump, as he called out to Griffin.

  “Buddy, it’s time to go, like right now.”

  Griffin was already running back toward him as Ethan finished removing the hose and tossing it back into its metal container. Sliding the container into the rear of the SUV, slamming the hatch, and returning the gas cap, he headed back toward the driver’s door. Glancing through the windows, and checking the horde’s progress, the excited voices from the interior again boomed.

  Ethan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was no way that this was happening yet again. He tried to shout, but his voice was now caught in his throat. And as he rounded the front of the SUV, Ben had grabbed the nine millimeter, opened the rear passenger door, and stepped out.

  44

  As Ethan attempted to make sense of what his younger friend was doing, images of a similar scene, from days earlier, flashed through his mind. He could vividly picture Cora in her final moments, prematurely exiting the SUV and being overrun by the horde that approached from the rear. Her screams pounded in his ears and recalling the smell of death that hung in the air that night, he drew both pistols and stood facing the approaching crowd.

  “Ben,” Ethan said, “get your ass back inside.”

  Ben gripped the nine millimeter in his left hand, leaned against the door frame, closed one eye, and fired off three quick rounds. Ignoring Ethan, he’d struck two of the Feeders that were out in front, the first cartwheeling sideways and the second, struck just above the right eyebrow, dropped instantly.

  The crowd continued forward, stumbling over the two that had fallen. From the left, a large Feeder, who looked to be a former truck driver, moved a few paces quicker than the others. His red and black flannel, shredded from the chest down, swayed in the slight breeze as he pushed his way to the front.

  As the six foot plus, former trucker stepped past the pair that Ben had taken to the ground, he locked eyes with the injured twenty-three year old. As Ben stared back, the incensed Feeder curled back his blood-saturated lips, and let out a deep guttural growl that appeared to shake the ground.

  The beast continued forward and within five feet of his intended target, lunged forward. Leaving his feet, he slammed shoulder first into Ben’s chest, sending the kid backward and into the SUV.

  Stepping in, Ethan placed his foot against the open door and kicked it into the back of the Feeder now half inside his vehicle. Through the glass, he could see Ben scrambling for the weapon he’d dropped, only to back away as the former trucker clawed wildly at the air.

  Ethan’s anger, as well as his heart rate, began to climb. Moving to the opposite side of the door, he pulled it open and grabbed the Feeder by the back of its pants, forcing him out onto the hard-packed dirt. Pulling one of two weapons from his waistband, he kicked the door shut, shoved the barrel against the back of the beast’s head, and pulled the trigger.

  Before Ethan had time to react, Griffin had slid in beside him and fired off four quick shots, dropping a pair of Feeders that were only steps behind the former truck driver. And with another six closing in quickly, the pair stood on opposite sides, unable to take a shot for fear of striking one another in the crossfire.

  Ethan reacted first. He moved away from the SUV and his friends, heading behind the line of vehicles they’d used for fuel. Griffin noticed what his friend had planned and ran in from the other direction, both men placing the forgotten vehicles between themselves and the approaching horde.

  “Wait,” Ethan said, “bring them all here before you fire. I don’t want to have to do this twice.”

  As Ethan pounded on the hood of the red coupe, Griffin leapt over the rear bumper and joined his friend. “You know I’m going to kill that kid, right?”

  “Not if I get to him first.”

  One by one, the group of more than twenty Feeders became more interested in the two men slamming their hands into the red coupe than the five others they were unable to get to. Slowly turning, they staggered away from the SUV and started toward the line of stalled vehicles, jamming themselves between the red coupe and the silver minivan.

  Angling himself so any errant shots would travel away from where his friends sat staring back at him, Ethan waited another beat as the riotous crowd filtered in. They pushed in behind one another, wedging those in front into the narrow space between the two contrasting automobiles.

  The first three were now pinned where the license plates of the two vehicles met, unable to move forward as the others pushed in from behind. They clawed at the minivan’s windshield and at the rear of the red coupe, fighting to free themselves. The more that piled in from behind, the heavier the load keeping them in place.

  Ethan hurried over to the rear of the red coupe and stood alongside Griffin. With one weapon still sitting flush against his lower back, he gripped the other, and asked his friend to step back.

  Extending his right arm, Ethan sighted the sixth Feeder back and squeezed off a single round. Before he could blink, the agitated creature’s head exploded in a bright red haze, sending fragmented pieces of flesh ricocheting off those behind. The Feeder’s lifeless body rocked backward into the next Feeder and then fell forward, further trapping those in front.

  Stepping onto the rear of the red coupe, Ethan stayed just out of reach of the
pinned Feeders, withdrew his second pistol, and fired another six shots. Targeting every other one, he had eliminated most of the threat and only needed to outrun the last four or five back to the SUV.

  Looking back at Griffin, he pointed to a spot fifty yards from where they stood.

  “There?”

  Griffin nodded, knowing what Ethan had in mind.

  Then back to the SUV, Ethan shouted at Frank. “Go, we’re coming.”

  Frank had already turned over the engine and shifting back into drive, slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The massive black sport utility vehicle jumped forward and away from the crowd that had already begun to turn. Steering up the short embankment and into the northbound lane, Frank and the others sat watching and waiting.

  Before turning and jumping off the trunk of the red coupe, Ethan took down another two Feeders who’d freed themselves and started toward the embankment. He fired only three quick shots and then followed Griffin as they stayed hidden behind the line of front to back, frozen in place vehicles.

  Slowing only momentarily, Ethan rounded the rear of the military transport vehicle and paused. Assured that he and Griffin would reach the road before the half dozen Feeders that had broken loose, he started across the open patch of earth to the waiting SUV and his friends.

  Before reaching the edge of the road, he glanced beyond the southbound lanes and into the parking lot of the twenty-four-hour diner. Another ten Feeders had stumbled out from behind the building and now limp-walked across the dusty asphalt.

  “Griff, we gotta go.”

  Running the last thirty feet to his friends, Ethan opened the door and waited for Frank to scramble into the back. He slid in behind the wheel, slammed the door, and shifted back into drive. With his right foot hovering over the gas and the SUV rolling forward, Griffin moved to the opposite side and climbed in behind Shannon.

  As the group settled in, Ethan breathed hard and deep, his pulse now pounding in his forehead. Guiding the oversized vehicle across the large strip of earth that separated the northbound and southbound lanes, he slipped his seatbelt over his left shoulder and slowly pressed the gas pedal to within an inch of the floor.