Free Will To Live by C. M. Wright Page B

happens. Some people just enjoy being bad, and they'll take advantage of any situation that gives them the freedom to wreak havoc on the world.”
    I just kept my mouth shut. No one here knows what I did back in Missouri to the rednecks. And I'm damn sure not going to enlighten them. But yes, I am definitely feeling some guilt.
    So now we're stopped on the side of the interstate just after crossing into Missouri.
    As I said before, I really never expected to get this far – to make it back to this state again. And not because of the truck stop incident just a few miles back, or even because of the zombies. It was because of Jake. I expected him to have found and killed me. Hell ! To be honest, I really expected to die not long after Jake kidnapped me.
    I just plain expected to die, in one way or another, by Jake's hands.
    Have I made it to my family yet? No. Not even close. Could he still kill me if he's still alive? You and I both know he could.
    And now, thanks to that little bit of something to look forward to, I'm no longer overwhelmed by relief and happiness. I'm just ready to get the hell out of here and as far from Jake, whether he be dead or undead, as I can get.
    I quickly start the truck and pull back on the road. We have at least six hours until we reach my sister's, and that's only if we aren't having to detour much. I send a quick, but sincere, prayer upwards that the rest of the trip is smooth and uneventful.  
    Ha ha.  
    Yeah, right.

Chapter Twelve
     
    The first couple of hours, no big deal. Stopped for more food, water, and bathroom breaks. Nick drove for a while so I could rest. And, of course, we killed a few more zombies.
    You see? No big deal.
    Okay, whoa. Wait.
    Killing zombies is now “no big deal”? I must be more exhausted than I thought. I'm sorry. It was a big d– No!
    It was a huge deal.  
    Aw, I can't lie. It really has become no big deal.  
    But when we stop in some random small town for the thousandth time – sure as hell seems like it – to take Bert to the bathroom – once again – Nick and I agree to switch seats and let me drive for a while.  
    It's not easy to drive when people walk out in front of you all the damn time. You thought the random deer was bad...ha! Try zombies.
    So once we get Bert back inside the truck, I drive around the small town looking for a gas pump. On the edge of town, I pull in to an old parking lot, which is littered with some major potholes. The station and pump look ancient, and I can only pray that they still work. There are some zombies roaming around the lot, so Nick and I shoot them before I proceed to pull in front of the pump.
    Yes, pump...a single pump.  
    It's on Nick's side, so he agrees to do fill the tank. I volunteer to go inside the station to turn the pump on, while he keeps watch out here. The sun is going down, and it's going to get a lot trickier to survive in the dark. It always is.
    I reach the door with no problems, and pause to look through the glass to see what's waiting for me.
    Nothing.
    I slowly pull the door open and step inside. My gun is ready of course, and my heart is pounding like hell. I fully expect an undead to walk out from one of the back rooms, or from behind one of the shelves, or even to be hiding behind the counter as if they have the capability to think of hiding.
    But the only thing I see is a zombie lying on the ground with a bullet-hole in its head, so I go behind the counter and find the switch to turn the pump on. Pushing the button, I watch out the window until Nick gives me a thumbs up that it's working. I then turn to go back around the counter, and with no warning, I'm hit with so much force, that I swear I bounce when my back and ass make contact with the tile that had once been under my feet.
    My gun clatters across the floor when I fall, and I frantically scramble towards it. But hands reach down and grab my leg, pulling me back. I look behind me as I scream and prepare for the teeth to sink into