Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 104

With thirteen miles left in the tank, we found a working gas station, one that wasn't a burned husk of its former self or had no gas, much to our relief. But our victory was short-lived.

"Well, there's gas below, but I don't think we're gonna get the pumps working," Logan said, pulling the main valve on the hose, but nothing came out of the nozzle. "Fucking shit. We need electricity."

Why can't everything be easy for a change? "I'm gonna take a look around for the generator," I said, letting out a heavy sigh. Every gas station has one in case of a blackout. I picked up my shotgun and slung it over my shoulders. "Alfie, Miguel, you two are coming with me."

Indy whined at the foot of the RV's entrance, staring expectantly at me. I shook my head. "Stay," I commanded. Indy huffed and lay down, seemingly content at watching Logan and Peter hounding around the gas pumps.

I continued, "Everyone else, keep a lookout. Grab anything you can find in the convenience store if you have to. Be careful. Remember, we're near a city."

"We will, chief," Yousef said with a curt nod.

Once we were out of earshot, Miguel whispered, "I think we're gonna have to leave Cora behind. That'd be a shame. We just built her."

"I doubt we'd fit inside the Honda Civic, Miguel. That can only carry five people," Alfie said.

"The day's still young," I reassured them. "There are lots of things we can find. Besides, we have an entire city to scavenge."

I pointed over the station's parking lot's guard rails overlooking Scranton, five miles from the city center. To be back near a city of the same size as Albany was nerve-wracking. Still, I had to remind myself that this wasn't like New York City. I crossed my fingers.

Miguel paled. "Shit. I'm not looking forward to that."

"Part of life, my friend."

The gas station sat on a hillside, built at the edge of a cliff near the northern suburbs. It had a picturesque view of the city skyline, towering horizon of postmodern, Art Deco, Industrial, and old mason architecture mismatched together. If I looked over the railings, past I-81, I could make out Viewmont Mall of sixteen acres of land, which was bigger than the Alphas' mall base. I could never get over how eerily quiet a city of this size was, making me feel like I'm out in nature, listening to the woods, the birds, and the wind.

Except for the vectors.

Down there on the mall, the parking lot was surrounded by vectors, singing together in their terrible moans and screeches that would make anyone's blood curdle.

"Holy. Fucking. Hell." Miguel gasped when we reached the rails. "I've never seen anything like it!"

On the interstate highway, thousands of vectors aimlessly ambled in one direction, like a river of foul-smelling and blood-soaked bodies flowing around abandoned vehicles, all heading southward. They reminded me of foot soldiers marching off to war; horrifying to see.

"Where are they going?" Alfie asked.

"This is the horde," I said, realizing. "They're moving toward the border, to the front."

"But there must be millions! How on earth can the military defeat them?"

"I...I don't know."

This wasn't even the only horde going south. There must be hundreds of hordes of similar size, trampling everything in their path. I was glad we took the backroads instead of the major highways. If we ran through them, I knew for sure we wouldn't survive.