"Oh Lord," Jeb prayed aloud. "Let me start this truck!"
The old farmer pumped the gas twice, pulled the oversized steering-column-mounted shift lever back and up into first gear, depressed the clutch, and turned the key. As the old straight-six turned over, he heard the dead man's hand slap the side of the truck. As the engine roared to life, a gnarled claw-like hand reached in through the open window.
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| 1953 Chevy 3100 Pickup Truck |
"That was close," Jeb turned and said to wife. "Myra!?"
Myra's side of the bench was empty and the door was slightly ajar. He was shocked. Then he looked in the rear-view mirror in time to see his wife of forty years confronting the dead man eyeball-to-eyeball.
As for Myra, from a distance of about fifteen feet she looked directly into the eyes of the dead man and the dead man looked right back at her for a moment. It seemed like an eternity. Myra wondered if she saw any hint of humanity in the dead man. But, the dead man just moaned and took a step towards her. It was his last step.
Myra had her .30-30 carbine at the ready, brought it to her shoulder, focused only for a moment on the front sight, and squeezed the trigger. In a bloody instant the dead man dropped to the ground. Myra turned away from the ghastly sight and backed off the road. When she looked up, the old Chevy 3100 was between her and the body.
"Honey, are you okay?" Jeb asked.
Myra was shaking and pale. Jeb's voice was muffled to her as adrenaline raced through her body.
"Myra baby," he asked again. "Are you going to be okay?"
Jeb sat for a moment and said, "I was wondering where you went?"
Myra took a deep breath, opened the door, and unsteadily guided the Marlin back into the gun rack. Grabbing Jeb's outstretched hand, she climbed back into the truck.
"I wasn't sure you'd get it into gear," Myra said. "I figured I better keep him from hitching a ride."
"That three-on-a-tree manual is gonna be the death of me!"
"The death of me too!"
"Do you think we should stop and bury him?" Myra asked as they started back down the road.
"No. It's too dangerous," Jeb replied. "There might be more like him out there."
"Then let's say a prayer for that poor man's soul."
Jeb pulled the truck over into the median and the couple bowed their heads. Jeb said a few somber words that were barely audible over the engine. When their prayer was over, they got back on the two lane road that was Highway 41.
"I think we'll definitely be making a pit stop in El Dorado," he said.
"Yes," Myra replied. "I think we're both going to have to tinkle."
[Thanks for reading this zombie story. You can continue on to read the next installment here: The Road Trip (Part 4)]
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