The Run

Changes,the run #6

Dennis and Jeremiah stared in horror from the truck. Anna had a hand firmly around Mac's throat.

 "What is she doing?" Jeremiah squeaked in fearful confusion.

 "Her wound," Dennis gasped, "She must be infected." But as he spoke, something strangehappened. Anna's left hand reached up and gripped her right arm by the wrist, wrenching it awayfrom Mac's neck. Mac retreated hastily, maneuvering so that a boulder stood between himself andAnna, but he seemed unhurt. What in the world was going on?

 Dennis stomped on the gas, launching the truck forward. Hearing the noise, Mac and Anna lookedup. Relief flooded Mac's face, but Anna just seemed scared. Dennis pulled up a short distanceaway and hopped out, strains of bluegrass still trickling from the now-functioning radio.

 "Unbuckle yourself," Dennis told Jeremiah. He was reluctant to put the boy in harm's way, butthey'd be safer together if they needed to fight--or flee--Anna. "Stay near the truck, but be readyfor anything." 

Jeremiah nodded bravely, making Dennis proud and a little sad--they'd all had to grow up quicklyto survive this zombie plague. Only a few weeks ago, he, Mac, and the other workers had beensitting happily around the table in the Greersons' kitchen, listening to Petey Coltrain and playingpoker with hardly a care in the world. And now--now one of his friends was trying to strangleanother. 

"Mac!" Dennis yelled, sprinting toward them, "Are you okay?" Maybe it was his imagination or therising sun's reflection, but he thought Anna's eyes held a glint of red. She didn't look hostile,though, just shaken and confused.

"Great timing, Dennis," Mac said, keeping a wary eye on Anna, "We may have a slight problem."He gestured toward Anna, whose frightened gaze was back on her hand. 

"Anna, are you okay?" Dennis asked her, "What happened?"

 "I think . . . " Anna's voice trembled, "I think I'm turning into one of them."

 Dennis and Mac exchanged a glance. Neither needed to ask who "them" meant. They looked ather bandaged right shin and noticed angry purple streaks creeping upward from it.

 "It started with my leg," she continued. "It was tingling all night, and then it began pulling me."

 "Your leg pulled you?" Dennis asked, his stomach tight with fear. 

Anna nodded. "My arm started feeling funny, too. Almost like it was asleep, but also likesomething else was controlling it." Her right arm twitched violently when she spoke, as if to proveher point. 

Mac felt desperate. It seemed evident that Anna was infected and slowly turning into a zombie--one who wished them harm. But she was also still Anna, and Anna was their friend. How couldthey help her? How much time did they have? Dennis's troubled face suggested that he sharedthese conflicted thoughts. 

"Don't worry," Jeremiah piped up suddenly. "We'll find a way to help you." The others lookedsurprised but appreciative of his clear determination. 

"Thank you," she replied, her eyes now clear, "I promise I'll try not to . . . you know." She regardedher rogue arm fearfully.

 "Let's start driving," Dennis said. "If we can find more survivors, they might know what to do.We've made a lot of noise--it's probably not safe to stay here any longer."

 They started toward the truck. As Mac passed Anna, her right hand leapt out and grabbed hisshirt. He yelped, yanking himself free. "I'm sorry!" Anna said, horrified. She grasped her right wristwith her left arm and stared down at her right leg, which was kicking out toward Mac.

 Dennis gripped her gently by the shoulders. "Um, not to be rude," he said, "but maybe you shouldride in back, Anna."

 She nodded mutely and climbed into the truck bed. Jeremiah arranged the tarps into a makeshiftseat. Mac hated isolating her, but he worried about her rebellious limbs interfering with Dennis'sdriving. Jeremiah squeezed her hand before hopping into the truck. 

"Everyone buckled?" Dennis asked after Mac hopped in, "This could get bumpy." He threw thetruck into gear and they rumbled back toward the highway. He fought the impulse to speed away,not wanting to jostle Anna. 

Dennis suspected Mac was casting his brain around for solutions as wildly as Dennis was--andwithout success. Uncomfortable in the silence, Jeremiah turned the radio back up, and PeteyColtrain's lively bluegrass rushed in. 

Mac's head snapped up. "Since when is the radio working?"

Dennis shrugged. He'd forgotten about it. "I'm not sure. I turned it on out of habit when we left thismorning, and bluegrass was playing. Why--"

 "We have to go there," Mac interrupted. "Don't you see?" When Dennis looked blankly, hecontinued excitedly. "If Coltrain's playing music, that means he's survived. And if he's taking thetime to spin bluegrass, his life must not be in danger. Right? Maybe he can help!" 

Dennis wasn't sure Petey Coltrain could help them--or Anna--but felt relieved to have a cleardestination. Mac was already poring over the maps that had resided in the glove compartment."Okay, co-pilot," Dennis said, "just tell me which way-" but his words were drowned out by aviolent thump on the rear windshield.

 The boys' heads whipped around, though Dennis quickly turned his eyes back to the road. "Whatwas that?" 

Mac looked sick. "It's Anna," he replied, "Well--Anna's leg."

 Another thump shook the rear window, so forceful that Dennis felt the impact through hisheadrest. 

Anna had twisted herself around in the truck bed and was pounding the thick heel of her righthiking boot into the glass. Or rather, Mac suspected, Anna had lost control and the zombie wastaking over.

 "We're going the right way!" Mac jabbed triumphantly at the map, "I recognize this stretch ofhighway from when we left the Greersons' ranch. The radio station's only 30 miles ahead."

 Thirty miles didn't sound like much, but Dennis felt as though he was barely inching along. He wastempted to slam the gas to dislodge zombie Anna, but he knew their friend was still inside. Hecouldn't do it. As Dennis drove, the heel kept coming down, its rhythm an ominous contrast to thebright bluegrass still playing. The glass was strong, but how long could it hold? 

The answer came quickly. Dennis gritted his teeth at the unmistakable noise of shattering glass.Cold air whooshed against his neck as the rear windshield gave way. Anna's leg, now a hideouspurple, kicked through the remaining glass, and her boot's motion continued directly into the backof Dennis's skull. Dennis felt his head zoom toward the steering wheel, and then everything wentblack.