Guts (the original interactive zombie apocalypse survival story)

6 - Long Route

When faced with a low gas vs zombies dilemma, you'd rather take your chances with low gas, so you choose the long route.

Once you back out of the open garage and down your driveway, you notice a small group of the undead a few houses down. They're chasing a little wiener dog around the yard as it dodges and zips around on its tiny legs.

The moment the undead hear you, they stop. Like the deadly predators they are, the half dozen or so undead snap their heads your way. Their movement is sharp and unnatural, you notice as you watch them through your rearview mirror.

The little dog has noticed you too, and it's high tailing it your way. It must know you're human - even from that distance. To it, any human must mean safety.

The undead give chase and they're fast - almost as fast as the dog. But they're not looking at the pooch now, they're locked in on you. You see a few of their limbs hanging at odd angles, the lips drawn back into a wicked snare, grimy teeth, and gaping wounds. One of them is your neighbor, and you can see a large hole in his stomach, the innards trailing behind him.

Uncontrollably, your hands tremble on the steering wheel. You switch into drive, but so-help-you, you can't pull away. You see that little dog, ears flying behind it as it runs for its life, and your heart wrenches. Maybe it's because the little guy is all alone, like you at the moment, except he looks so much more helpless, and those creatures are so heinous.

If you pull away, they'll probably go back to chasing it. They'll probably catch it. In your mind's eye, you picture the rotting things ripping the little dog, and you know you can't let that happen.

You slam the Jeep back into reverse and gun it. The little dog catches on quickly. It scrambles over to the side of the road, but the undead have only one thing in mind. Hunger. They don't move aside, and you ram into them hard, wincing as they splat and crunch against the back. The back tires run over a few, but you know it hasn't killed them. They're still gasping and making other chilling noises from underneath the Jeep.

While the undead are down, you reach over and open your passenger door, allowing the little dog to find sanctuary. It jumps in and perches itself on the seat, breathing like an Olympic runner. You shut the door back, throw it in drive, and take off, running over the couple again as you bound forward.

Leaving the undead staggering and stumbling far behind in your rearview, you turn onto the open highway.

You glance over, realizing you're not alone anymore. The little tan dog is watching out the window happily.

"What's your name, little one?" you ask it.

It looks at you curiously.

"Come here. Come on," you coax, trying to keep an eye on the road.

Obediently, the dog comes closer to you so you can check its collar for a tag. There is one.

"Rocky?" you say, trying to familiarize the sound of it for both you and for the dog hearing it spoken in your voice.

It's a cute name, though you don't see a resemblance. He cocks his head as you say it.

"Poor little thing," you say. "Those mean monsters back there scared you, didn't they? They scare me, too."

You stare straight ahead, concentrating on the road. There are numerous empty cars pulled over or wrecked cars that you have to dodge. Some are bloody. You see a few undead, dragging themselves, limping, or swaying idly as you drive past. There hasn't been a live person for miles.

You're starting to feel apprehension build up again, so you switch on the radio. Instead of music, a news report pours into your ears.

"...So you really wanna stay off those roads," a man's clear voice says.