Zombie Short Story: The Road Trip - Part 3

[Welcome to my short story serial, "The Road Trip."  In this installment, Jeb is in quite a pickle.  But, if you're new to the series, you might want to start at the beginning - Part 1.]

     "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. 

1953 Chevy 3100 Pickup Truck

     This time Jeb had the presence of mind to ease the clutch up nice and slow while pressing on the gas.  The '53 Chevy truck accelerated away leaving the the zombie behind.
     "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)]

Zombie Short Story: The Road Trip - Part 2

[This is the second part of my serialized series of short stories.  To start at the beginning of this series, read "The Road Trip-Part 1."]

    With a full load of vegetables and canned preserves, Jeb and Myra pulled out of their drive and started their journey to the north in their old Chevy pickup truck. 

   "How should we go?" Jeb asked.

   "If we take the highway," Myra replied.  "We'll get their faster."

   "If we take 41," Jeb said.  "We'll have more options if something happens and we can stop in some of the little general stores on the way up."
   "Then 41 is definitely the way to go."
   Driving gently, Jeb piloted the '53 Chevy across the nearby interstate overpass and hung a left to head north on Highway 41.  In this part of Georgia, it was merely a well-maintained and striped two-lane road.  Soon the truck was clicking along at a steady fifty miles per hour through rural Georgia on its trek to market.  Farm fields, an occasional house, and small stands of pines broke the monotony. It wouldn't be a long trip and it was a familiar route, but Myra sat mesmerized looking at the arrow straight road and the endless ribbon of railroad tracks to their right.

US Highway 41 in South Georgia (courtesy of Google Maps)

After a few minutes, Jeb started squinting and looking far down the blacktop.  A little ways ahead, a bearded man in an open blue denim shirt and jeans stood in the middle of the road.
    "Is that...what is that guy doing in the road?" he asked as he started to slow the truck.
    "I don't know," Myra replied.  "Do you think he needs help?"
    "I reckon we'll see what he wants," said as he pushed in the clutch and brought the truck to a stop alongside the man who stood alone in the opposite traffic lane.
     "Hey fella," Jeb hollered in a friendly but booming voice. "Do ya need any help?"
     The man turned revealing a two gaping chest wounds and a bloodly torn up ear.  A streak of dried reddish-brown blood soaked his denim work shirt, the tee shirt he wore underneath, and his pants all the way to the ground.  Jeb recoiled and practically jumped to the middle of the bench seat.  Even the old truck jumped as the Jeb inadvertently popped the clutch.  In its top gear, third, the old truck lurched ahead about 30-feet and completely stalled.
     As Jeb regained his seat, he could hear the dead man moan and see him growing larger in the rear view mirror.  His revolver was pinned awkwardly to his hip by the lap belt his kids had lovingly had installed.  His only choice was to start the truck.

<It looks like Jeb better get it gear or he's gonna be drooling and shuffling.  Read on in the next installment - Part 3!>

Zombie Limerick - Walking and Stalking

If ever you see a dead man who is walking
then you'll be glad that we spent this time talking
If you're without a handgun
very fast you should run
or forever the living you'll be stalking.

Photo by - Rodrigo Paredes from Ciudad Autónoma de Buenos Aires, Argentina / CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)

Zombie Short Story: The Road Trip - Part 1

     Jeb was sweating a bit as he loaded a box of preserves into his old Chevy truck.  Bushel baskets and wooden boxes filled with fresh cucumbers, pole beans, butter beans, onions, and even peaches made for a complete load.  It had been a lot for an old man to plant and a lot for him to harvest, but as he pushed the box of preserves across the bed of the truck he was proud.

A 1953 Chevrolet 3100 Pickup

     "Not bad for a retired farmer," he thought to himself.  But his thought was interrupted when the side door to the garage door jerked open and his wife stormed in.
     "Jebediah Ruben Simmons, you stubborn old mule," Myra Simmons said indignantly. "You need to listen to me!"
     "Woman," the old farmer replied. "I hear you."
     "You don't need to go into town.  You can stay right here on this farm."
     "Myra, if I don't go into town, people in town don't get to eat."
     "If you believe the news, you know the people in town are doing a pretty good job of eating each other."
     "You know that's just the worst video they can find.  There's good people in town, there's families,  there's refugees, and they need food."
     "Jeb," his wife said pointing at the classic Mustang sitting next to his truck.  "You know exactly what kind of people have come down here from Atlanta."
     "Darling, you know I can deal with any trouble that comes my way."
     "I don't know that and you don't know that.  You're too damn old for this stuff."
     "I'm going," Jeb replied.  "My grandfather told stories of using corncobs for toilet paper and I'm not fixing to start down that path.  We need stuff too."
     "It's too dangerous!"
     "It's not too dangerous," Jeb answered. "I'm only going up to Tifton!"
     "Good, then I'm coming with you!" Myra retorted before storming out.  Speechless, the old farmer knew he had been outmaneuvered.
     "Damn it," Jeb muttered as he pulled on his Bulldog cap.
     Next, he strapped on his revolver, hopped in his truck, took a deep breath, and hit the garage door opener.  The '53 Chevy started right up and he eased her slowly out of the garage.  Jeb remembered when his kids had "stolen" his old truck, fixed it up a bit, and had it painted.  The deep eggplant color still looked good.  It still had the original 216-cubic-inch straight six, but that was all Jeb needed.  The truck rejuvenation had been the best birthday gift ever and it meant a lot.  He hoped his daughter Betty and her kids were alright out there.
     As Myra came out looking as beautiful as ever.  She had a small cooler in one hand and carried her .30-30 Marlin in the other.  She opened the passenger door, slid the rifle into the gun rack, and slid up onto the bench seat.
     "What's for lunch," Jeb asked.
     "Two sandwiches, potato salad, two Coca-Colas, and two boxes of ammunition."
     "That sounds good to me."

[To hit the road with Jeb and Myra, read the next installment "The Road Trip - Part 2." If you'd like to read a previous Chronicle of Jeb, check out my short story "Something You Oughta Know."]

Zombie Flash Fiction: The Beautiful and the Dead

     "Run.  Run," Gina said opening the shop door. "Get on in here girl!"
     "Oh, I'm so glad you're open," Tanya said slamming the door of her Lexus.  She trotted nervously in from the parking lot with her revolver in one hand and a small totebag in the other.
     "We ladies need our hair fixed up," Gina said knowingly.
     "You got that right,"  Tanya said nodding her head.  "My do needs to be done!"
      "How are you and the family?" Gina asked.

Photo by Goldmund100 / CC BY-SA
(https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

      "Good, good," Tanya replied adding in a low voice. "You know my husband and my boy managed to break into the drugstore down the road."
      "Oh they did," Gina said.  "How'd they manage that?"
       "Through the roof with a chainsaw," Tanya said proudly.  "Once they were in, they had the whole place to themselves."
       "Ooooh, but girl, didn't the noise of that saw bring them in from miles around?"



       "Hell yeah," Tanya exclaimed.  "The hubs and little Johnny barely got back to the truck.  Johnny almost got bit, but he's real good with a knife now."
       "Oh that's good.  Useful skill now."
       "So how's your mama doing with all this?"
       "Oh she's real worried about  her sugars and running out of her medications," Gina said.  "And it's not like she can go to the doctor now."
       "You said the doctors got her on Metformin right?"
        "Oh yeah, she takes Metformin and she was taking Gly, Glybur-something, but we don't have enough food for her to be messing with that anymore."
        "I thought you said she was on Metformin so I got you some," Tanya said with a smile.  "That totebag is for you."
        "Oh thank you honey," Gina exclaimed giving Tanya a big smile. "And look you got us some canned food too."
        "I'll hook you up," Tanya said proudly.  "But, I'm kind of mad at my hubs.  He was in that store for an hour and he didn't bring me any makeup, lotion, or anything."
        "Not even a lipstick?"
        "They didn't even get soap."
         "Men," Gina said shaking her head.  "They got no sense of priorities."
         "They were in a whole drugstore full of makeup and aisles of product."
          "You and me should go," Gina said.  "When the dead walk, I can make do with drugstore product."
           "We could go through the store with a more refined eye.  I know I've got a list."
           "Alright,  we've got a ladder and a van in back.  We'll go in a little bit."
           "We'll have fun!"
           "First though," Gina said getting back to business, "what are we going to do with this hair?"
           "Well, these bangs are getting on my last damn nerve . . ."

Zombie Haiku: Hiding

Spring in Atlanta
Chirping birds and green trees
inside we all hide

Zombie Cinquain Poem: Stop Eating!

Watch it!
Lay off the food!
No more cookies or snacks!
Outside is nothing but danger
and dead!

Photo by Carl Campbell / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)