Free Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage by Richard Brown

plaza was still a good fifty yards ahead.
    “Well, there’s no way through,” I said, putting the Jeep in park. “Forgot about the tolls.”
    “What should we do?”
    I stood up on the seat and looked around. Only a few infected heading west. None an immediate threat.
    “Hey,” Peaches said. “Isn’t that Robinson’s car? I think I recognize the number.”
    Parked crossways to our position was a police car, though I had no idea if it was Robinson’s or not. There were police cars all over the place. We’d passed dozens on the short drive from the campsite. The number on the back bumper also meant nothing to me. I wasn’t particularly good at remembering numbers.
    “I’ll check,” I said, hopping out of the Jeep to get a closer look. I couldn’t see much through the dark tinted windows, but as I moved around to the front, it became instantly obvious Peaches was right. Not only was the front end bloodied up and dented from all the people Robinson had plowed over, there was writing on the hood in black marker.
    Take white SUV on other side.
    Robinson.
    Once again, I loaded Peaches up with all she could carry and we set off on foot, leaving Ted’s Jeep behind for good. Instead of squeezing between the cars at the toll booths, we walked behind the faculty building. Parked on the other side was a white SUV. Further out, a line of police and military vehicles.
    “Wow,” I said. “They weren’t letting anyone through.”
    “That’s incredible.”
    “Good for us, though. Look at the highway.”
    Beyond the barrier was nothing but empty lanes as far as we could see.
    “That should save us some time,” Peaches said.
    “A lot of time,” I agreed. I checked my watch. 6:09 p.m. “Even though we’re already late.”
    The keys to the white SUV were on the seat. It started without a problem, and had plenty of gas. Back on the now empty highway, I cruised along at a comfortable fifty miles per hour until we reached the second toll plaza. I dropped down to thirty and drove through the spacious pre-paid lanes. There were a few police and maintenance vehicles parked on the other side, but no military this time. I accelerated back up to fifty. I wanted to go faster but the number of infected on the highway had steadily begun to grow since the last toll station. Most heard us coming and knew to get out of the way, but it would only take one to screw things up.
    Soon, we came upon exit 13.
    Narcoossee Road.
    I stopped at the end of the off ramp. “Which way?”
    Peaches had the map open in her lap. Olivia helped her study it. “Turn right.”
    I maneuvered around a number of police cars and headed northwest down Narcoossee. The road was mostly clear of vehicles. The police had done an admirable job shutting down the area, not allowing anyone access to the highway.
    “What side of the road is it on?”
    “Looks like the right,” Peaches replied. “Should be coming up soon. You think they’ll still be there?”
    The clock on the dash read: 6:18 p.m.
    “I don’t know. I hope. The area is surprisingly clear of infected.”
    “Yeah, I think I’ve only seen a few since we exited the highway.”
    So had I, and then we passed the Aldi Food Market, and we suddenly knew why.
    “Oh my God,” I said, slowing down as the Walgreens sign came into view between some trees. “Tell me that’s not the one we’re going to.”
    Peaches didn’t answer. The look on her face answered for her.
    I slowed to a stop. Both of us looked on in silence.
    Amazed.
    Hundreds of people surrounded the Walgreens, packed shoulder to shoulder covering every corner of the parking lot, and blocking every entrance and exit. They faced the building like a crowd of restless concertgoers waiting for the show to begin.
    And in short time, it would.

 
    “Well, I think we made it in time,” I said. “That’s the good news.”
    The hundreds of infected people keeping watch on the Walgreens, waiting patiently for our friends to greet them outside,