Free MZS: Boston: A Metropolitan Zombie Survivors Novella by K. D. McAdams Page A

from.
    “Nah , it’s dead in there.” Tucker smiles oddly and I know the joke he was making but not happy about making.
    “Cupcake, do you have supplies? Or a plan?” I don’t want to lead this group, but I can’t just blindly follow.
    “No, and get the fuck out of dodge. You got anything?”
    “There’s a store around the corner. We can get drinks and snacks to get us through a night or two.”
    “Why don’t you go on ahead and get things together. We’ll pull the rig over and do a splash and dash.”
    Cupcake and I stare at each other for a long minute. Would he ditch me? I always thought Cupcake was a good guy.
    He is a good guy. These are just fucked up times. They forgot their weapons in the Humvee and had nothing to fight with. In fact, it’s a good thing that he panicked; it means he’s human and not flawless. It means that when I fuck up or when Tucker does, we won’t get kicked out of the Humvee and left to fend for ourselves. At least, I hope that’s what it means.
    “ Todd, will you give me a hand? I think Tucker deserves to ride.”
    “Hell yeah , Tucker can ride, dude just went beast mode and saved our asses,” Todd agrees.

Chapter 11
     
     
    There was no drama as we loaded the Humvee. Todd and I each carried a couple of cases of non-alcoholic drinks to the front of the store and Tucker and Cupcake were loading them when we came back with another couple of cases.
    Everyone got a little silly when I grabbed a thing of chocolate chip cookies. It was like we realized that we were on an all-expenses paid shopping spree. Chips, crackers, gum and candy were thrown into the back of the truck and stashed in every available cubbyhole.
    “Pike or 117?” Cupcake asks, as he turns right onto Chestnut Hill Ave.
    “Pike’ll be jammed at this hour.” Tucker speaks a perpetual truth. The Mass Pike is jammed at all hours.
    “I like 117. This baby should be able to go up, over or around anything we find on an old country lane. One wrong tractor-trailer and the jersey barriers on the Pike could end our trip fast,” Todd says. It seems has thought on this a bit.
    “Can’t argue that logic. One -seventeen it is.”
    “Why not Route Nine?” Tucker chimes in. His eyes are still darting all over the place as if they were tracking a fly.
    There is silence in the Humvee. I don’t know if Route Nine is a better idea or a worse one, but I want to speak up in support of Tucker. Are we all thinking or is Cupcake going to just ignore him?
    It hits me that we are no longer in a democracy. Cupcake ’s rig, Cupcake’s rules. We happen to be lucky that we know and like Cupcake. It could be different, but for now I’m going to trust things will be fair.
    “I thought you struck gold there , buddy.” Cupcake looks away from the road and to Tucker, sitting in the passenger seat. “Nine’s divided inside of 128. It’s another concrete funnel that could leave us trapped.”
    Our leader ’s words are kind and soft. Cupcake knows that Tucker is fried but still deserves credit for bailing us out of that last attack and getting us together.
    “So you’re thinking we go out through Watertown and Waltham?” I’m trying to get my bearings. Navigating around the city is not second nature to me yet.
    “Yeah. Lots of side streets and alternate routes in case we need to take evasive action. Things should open up in Weston and we can put some space between us and ground zero.”
    “ Tucker, you must know someone in Waltham. Do you want to cast some texts and see if we can reel in other survivors?”
    Cupcake catches me in the rear view. I may have just overstepped my bounds. I don’t get to save other people or invite them into his Humvee. The truth is I was just trying to give Tucker something to do so he could come down. A subtle nod from the driver lets me know he agrees.
    Up ahead, I can see a single undead shuffle out into the street. Cupcake sees it too , and I can feel the engine rev as the truck