Free Dead Hunger V: The Road To California by Eric A. Shelman Page B

my darling tee shirt off and finding a long sleeved, chambray shirt.  Levis.  I threw it on and buttoned it fast, then slid along the wall past my stepdad and back into Lisa’s room.  She was already in her jeans and was tying her running shoes.
    “Perfect,” I said.  “Is his car in the garage?”
    “Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky.  “He filled it yesterday.  He always does on Saturdays.”
    “Prius, right?”
    She nodded.  “Keys in the kitchen.”
    “I don’t think you should go in there,” I said.
    “You check,” she said.  “If you don’t mind.  Tell me if it’s bad and I’ll take your word.  If it’s not, I need to say good bye.”
    I knew in my heart and mind that it couldn’t be anything but.  But I promised her anyway.
    “Okay.  You go to the garage, and I’ll come and get you.  I’ll walk you there in case you were wrong.”
    As we walked tentatively down the hall leading toward the kitchen and dining room, I glanced to my left and shielded her face from what was once her father.
    As I came to the kitchen door, my eyes turned right, where I saw my mother’s bloody barefoot feet on the floor.  All of the toes were gone.  The rest was red meat.  I did not want to look any closer.  I couldn’t see her once beautiful face in similar condition. 
    But I needed the damned keys, and I needed to make sure she would not be rising again as one of these … creatures.
    “Go,” I said.  “In the garage.  It’s bad.  I just looked.”
    “Oh, Davey,” she said, her tears flowing again. 
    “Get in the car,” I said.  “I’ll be five seconds.
    She went, and I turned and ran into the kitchen, focusing on the counters, the walls, everywhere but at my mother’s prone body.
    And yet I had to glance down.  Had I not known it was, there would have been no way to identify this female carcass as human at all.
    I know there is a lot of barf in these chronicles.  But if I’m being honest, let’s just say that as my fingers curled around the Toyota’s keys, I left pepperoni sticks and Cheetos on the counter as payment.
    One more task.  I pulled out my gun, squinted my eyes to avoid a good view of my mauled mother, and fired a round into her head.  The body jerked and fell still again.
    I spat the horrid taste of vomit from my mouth and ran to the garage.  As I pushed the garage door opener and it began to lift, I saw two sets of waiting ankles, which became shins, knees, thighs and finally destroyed skin of hands and torsos.  I ran for the car, realizing the stuff I’d had in my bike was lost to me.  No more snack food.
    I got in the Prius, pushed the start button, and threw it in reverse.  I threaded the zombie needle that were probably two of their walking dead neighbors, tried to skirt around the BMW, but couldn’t.  It was parked dead center, and I cranked hard, knocking it on its side and tearing off my driver’s side mirror in the process.  The Prius bounced into the street after running over the Beemer’s rear tire, and I turned on the headlights and threw it into drive.
    I drove that hybrid piece of shit through the night like the Devil himself was behind me.
     
    *****
     
    “Where’s this church?” I asked Lisa, who was turned around in her seat, looking behind us.  Her eyes still held the dull glaze I’d seen there since she watched me kill her father, and I knew it would be a long time until it was completely gone; despite the fact that she had told me to do it, every time she saw me for the distant future, that is the image that would come to her mind.
    In a single day, the world had turned into a living horror movie and Lisa had just lost both her parents.  There was nothing to say, and I knew my little sister wouldn’t ever be the same.
    It was fully dark now, and cloud cover was heavy,
    She turned back around and fell into her seat, buckling her seat belt.  “Take a right on Perry Street.”
    I know that Hemp said these things lost their