The Survivors: Book One

"Want me to drive?" Anne asked, making him jump. "I've got my glasses."

He nodded, smiling tightly as he loosened the belt over his swollen abdomen. "Yes, but not yet. We'll switch after brunch and I'll snooze in your warm spot."

She smiled back as she adjusted her silk shawl tighter over her sweater, then closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow against the locked door. Instead of giving him hell about not telling her he was sick, she was hadn't even mentioned it, just adjusted to care for him as they traveled. She was handling the trip well. Had she too been just a little bored, a little restless?

Hell of a way to have an adventure, he thought, still wanting to see the stars. There was a bite to the wind that said they would be running the heater all day, and he was very glad of the cans on the luggage rack. Three hours at a gas station with a foot pump had given him a nasty backache, but they were good for two weeks of driving, and he hoped to find a safe place long before it ran out.

Along with the gang they had just hidden from, there had also been other dangers on this trip, like the radiation victim that had snuck up on them in the fog three days ago and almost got the door open before he could get the wagon into drive. Talk about taking some years off my life, John thought with a touch of bitterness. The weather was also hard to drive in, but at least the acid rain would force the walking dead to hole up somewhere and start dying. With the open sores and lack of reasoning skills, the zombies would go to ground and not come up.

The doctor inched along without headlights toward the government compound, casting his eyes over the tarp in the back of the wagon that hid their belongings - the last remnants of their life together. He desperately wanted to find a group of people like themselves…different. John knew they were out there, gathering somewhere, he could feel the pull of their calls, but saw no one, and the old Ford kept on chugging.

5

Half an hour before dawn barely lit the sky, the rain and fog had lightened and the wagon sat on Routt Ridge. The occupants waited silently, but their hope was gone, the billowing smoke was undeniable. Their safety was in flames.

Surveying the surrounding area, John watched ants taking the poison bait balls he'd thrown out of the window when they'd first stopped. The ants here were bigger, but their hill was enormous, - three feet high and probably just as wide - with a snakeskin and the bones of lizards scattered around it. The order of nature had been reversed and even here, the smells of smoke, rot, and mildew lingered under the fresh scent of clean air and pine trees.