ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Seven

The clucking about drives us crazy for the first fifty miles or so. After that, I'm not sure if we are growing used to them, or if the chickens are getting used to riding in the car. We are making good time, keeping to the side roads to avoid the major roadways that are probably clogged with zombies and abandoned cars. We see plenty of the dead, wandering around in legions, but they are fairly easy to avoid in the car. Around noon we see a huge group up ahead, shuffling around across the road and even filling the ditches; we have to turn off to avoid them.

"Are they travelling in packs?" Abby asks, leaning forward to observe them.

None of us know the answer. It certainly looks like they are grouping together. I begin to wonder how such a large group of them are randomly congregating in the middle of nowhere. Once we put a bit of distance between us and them, I am able to look back and see the large pileup of vehicles on the highway.

It definitely makes me more leery about being in the vehicle—those people had probably thought they were safe in their cars too.

I look down at the phone clutched in my hand. It's been dead since yesterday. I'm sure there isn't any cell service anyway, but it's hard to give it up. Even if I can't use it to call out, it still holds so much of my old life. It's kind of like a memory box. Thankfully, phone chargers are pretty common and there is one in the suburban. Abby used to have the same phone too, but I don't think she brought it with her. I probably shouldn't have brought mine, it would have given me a clean, clear break without it. I plug it into the car charger, ignoring the looks from everybody, and watch as the battery slowly climbs. When it's full, I leave it plugged in and open up my camera roll, flipping through them from start to finish. This time there is no emotional crying. I just look at our smiling faces and remember a happier time.

Ryan doesn't want to stop anymore unless it's absolutely necessary. We lost an entire day at the farm house, and every day we wait, travel gets more dangerous as more and more of humanity is turned into flesh eating monsters.

We stop for fuel at a gas station on the outskirts of a small town. I don't even bother to learn its name, and this time we stay together and alert. It goes surprisingly smooth, with only the gas attendant roaming the parking lot with his vacant, black eyes, and rotting skin. Ryan puts him down quickly and gets to work prying the lid off the underground tank. Abby gets him the hose and hand pump from the back while Megan and I keep close to the other two, staying alert for any signs of danger. Nothing happens. Ryan fills the tank, replaces the cover, and puts the hose away.

I want to say that I can't believe how easy this has been, but I don't as it's the surest way to jinx us. I keep my mouth shut until we are back in the suburban.

"I can't believe how easy that was," Abby says as soon as the door shuts, and I groan.

Ryan gives me a funny look in the rear view mirror and peels out of the parking lot as though the dead are nipping at our heels because, let's face it, Abby just jinxed us.

We drive for another hour without saying much, and I begin to relax a bit after Abby's blatant jinx, which should have been my first clue that something terrible might happen.

"What is that black thing up ahead?" Megan leans forward in her seat and points at something in the not too distant horizon that looks odd against the grassy landscape. The sun is shining in our eyes from that direction, so it isn't obvious at first.

"It can't be..." Abby squints a bit, and I have a sinking feeling.

Ryan pulls over, gets out of the car, and goes toward to the back. He opens it up, causing the chickens to raise an immediate fuss before returning with a pair of binoculars in his hand. He stands by the driver's side mirror and takes a long look. When the binoculars drop from his lifeless fingers, I know it can't be anything good.