Free Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down by Duncan McArdle Page B

work, Andrew felt his job as medic was just about complete. But as he saw his patients eyes softly close, he began to fear that his job as chauffer was just beginning. John appeared to have passed out from the pain, somewhat understandably so, which meant that it was now time for Andrew to take over.
     

Chapter 8: Where are we?
    As he opened his eyes – his eyelids feeling heavier than ever – John felt almost shocked at the realisation he was alive, albeit in a considerable amount of pain. Despite the many doubts he had about his companion, Andrew had evidently managed not only to keep him alive, but to move him clear of their previously dangerous surroundings.
    Looking around – his eyes still adjusting to the light – he couldn’t help but be confused by his new surroundings, sitting there in the trucks passenger seat. They appeared to have stopped in some sort of sleazy looking gas station, the kind that charged twice the going rate because it was on the side of a freeway. Once his eyes had completely adjusted and he’d gotten his bearings though, John couldn’t help but notice an important factor, the fact that he appeared to be alone. That was of course, save for his belongings, and an old, battered looking M1911, which lay on the floor of the passenger foot-well.
    Had Andrew left him? Or had he parked here and then ran into trouble, choosing to lead said trouble away from John who had been sitting here unconscious in the truck? No matter the reason, why had he left his gun? Was it left intentionally or was it forgotten? Questions raced through John’s mind as he attempted to comprehend the situation, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar, reflecting spectacles he had last seen when passing out from pain just a few hours earlier. Ambling over from the gas stations store, bag in one hand, and to John’s surprise, what appeared to be a shotgun in the other, Andrew slowly got wind of his leaders awakening. Before he had a chance to instruct him otherwise, John cringed as Andrew’s excitement at seeing his friend alive once again got the best of him.
    “JOHN!”, he yelled, his voice echoing across the desolate forecourt.
“Shhhhh!”, John mouthed, perching his lips and making the closest thing to a “Be quiet” gesture he could muster.
Understanding straight away, Andrew began spinning full circle, looking for signs of any biters his outburst might have stirred, but luckily for both of them, finding none.
“You’re alive!”, Andrew whispered through the missing driver side window, as he arrived alongside the truck and quickly climbed in, closing the door – much more softly this time – behind him.
“Apparently”, John responded, clearly still dazed, “Where are we?”, he asked.
“About six miles down highway 36, hope you don’t mind but I carried on along the route you’d marked on the map”, Andrew said, both proudly and timidly.
“Six miles?”, John questioned, grabbing the map from the dashboard and staring hard at it for some time. “How long was I out?”, he eventually asked, looking back up as he did.
“About an hour. I figured you’d wake up feeling pretty rough so stopped to pick up some pain meds”, Andrew stated, shaking the shopping bag he was holding. “Found this shotgun behind the counter too!”, he continued, brandishing the shotgun in his other hand, again apparently very proud of himself.
“Jesus, you’ve been busy”, John started, grabbing a box of Tylenol from the bag and popping several pills out, “Get any water?”, he asked, to which Andrew smiled and dove back into his bag, before producing several differently branded bottles.
    Thanks in no small part to a dramatic lack of traffic, Andrew had managed to cover a staggering distance during John’s brief absence. In fact, despite knowing little about their route beforehand, he’d propelled them almost to the half-way point of their destination, and right to the end of their time on highway