Free Deadlocked 8 by A.R. Wise

problems I’d like to have,
instead of…” I motioned outside, at the ruined world around us.
“This.”
    “Amen,” said Harrison.
    We were still south of Denver by the time the
sun slid behind the mountains. There would still be a couple hours
of daylight, but we knew it was time to start searching for a place
to stay. We hadn’t made it nearly as far as I’d hoped, but it
wasn’t worth risking traveling at night. The noise from our Jeep
attracted enough attention as it was, but driving around with
headlights on at night would guarantee that our presence was
announced to any raider, soldier, or undead that wandered this
region.
    Finding a suitable place to rest wasn’t hard,
although there were certain steps that needed to be followed. I had
a mental checklist of requirements: Minimum of two exits,
preferably three. A second floor or attic was preferable, as long
as they had easy access to the roof. Homes were better than
businesses, although a separation of thirty to fifty feet between
houses was necessary, a surprisingly rare thing in many parts of
this area – how people managed to live so packed together in the
Red days was a mystery to me. Basements weren’t an option, but most
had flooded long ago, leaving them rotted and unsuitable. Large
homes were never a good choice, because having more walls around
you meant you’d be burdened with endless eerie bumps and creaks in
the night that would startle you awake – it’s not hard for your
imagination to conjure up monsters in the halls when those monsters
might actually be there.
    The suburbs were the worst place to get
stuck, and we were right in the middle of them when we started
searching for a place to stop. I wanted to travel to a rural area,
where we could find a ranch that would suit our needs (those
idyllic, quaint homes set out on a plain, hidden away from the
danger of the city were my favorite places to stay), but it
would’ve been too far from the job we had to do. While Harrison’s
destination wasn’t far from where we ultimately wanted to go, it
had diverted our path to the west side of Denver, where the former
suburbs of the city had flourished all the way up to the mountains,
leaving little open space that wasn’t flooded with decaying
buildings and houses that were packed together with barely a yard
to spare between them.
    “Maybe we should head south,” I said as we
drove slowly through these cluttered neighborhoods. “There are some
houses that would be better than these.” I gazed in dismay at the
rows of duplicate homes, each baring such a striking resemblance to
the next that the minor difference in color or regalia did little
to add personality.
    “Go back?” asked Harrison. “It already took
us too long to get out here. Do you really want to backtrack?”
    “He’s right,” said Ben. “If we’re going to
stay off the highways, then it’ll be slow-going the whole way.” He
turned onto another street and said, “This is a dead end. A house
down here might be nice and quiet.”
    It was a cul-de-sac, and the road led right
into a driveway that once had a decorative grassy patch in the
center, but was now home to a sizeable tree whose roots had torn up
the concrete. It was a two-story home, with a large garage and
plenty of windows that had yet to be broken. That was always a good
sign, meaning that the home’s structure hadn’t shifted and
shattered the glass or succumbed to weather that might’ve degraded
the inside.
    Ben parked on the street, since the driveway
had been ruined by the pine tree that lived there now. Stubs was
excited, and started to bark, which he rarely did.
    “Better get him outside,” said Ben. “Sounds
like he needs to poop.”
    Harrison was about to open the door when I
stopped him.
    “Wait a minute,” I said as I rolled down my
window. “Let’s listen first.” I wanted to make sure our trip
through the area hadn’t earned us a parade of greys. All we could
hear was the happy chatter of