Free World of Ashes II by J.K. Robinson Page B

Daniel, who was watching them, trying not to think about being on a bridge. “Can you look out the back and see why we’re not moving?”
    “No.” Daniel responded quickly, burying his face in his sweat soaked shirt. The humidity over the lake hadn’t gotten any better and the back of the truck was making things a million times worse. He was hiding his eyes from the sight of water just as much as his nose from the sick odor of spoiling blood that now attracted flies in the truck by the hundreds.
    “Fine.” Wendy got up and climbed on the truck’s tailgate to look over the top of it. The fresh air felt good but her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted when the truck jolted backward. Wendy’s grip was at an angle where she thought the truck might move forward, the sudden lurch to the rear slipped her grip as the driver put their them in reverse. She began to fall, nothing but bright blue sky above her and she never had a chance to scream. What surprised her even more than falling was that Daniel and SPC Macon had grabbed her before she went head first under the truck’s wheels. “Oh my God, thank you.” She said, panic finally catching up when they dragged her back inside.
    “Why are we backing up?” Macon asked no one in particular.
    A FEMA worker in the truck, a bloodied patch over his eye where a helicopter had thrown a rock into it, opened up his phone and typed something in on the website they were using for communications. A real time satellite feed of the surrounding few miles popped up without much lag. “Holy, shit, they’re in front of us too!” He exclaimed. “The Army’s sending choppers to evacuate the checkpoint but they’re half an hour out, the Infected are-“
    Gunfire broke out on both sides of the bridge almost simultaneously. People began running in both directions, a mass of death and mayhem ensued. Daniel sucked up his fear and climbed out where Wendy had been and took a look for himself. Nothing was in front of their truck but a canvas top Humvee and two fat Army officers who’d gotten out to watch the runners sprint over the hills ahead, mauling everyone they met. Typical officers. Machine guns chattered and rifle fire echoed throughout the valley until it all seemed like one long roar.
    Daniel climbed out and ran to the driver, a terrified Airman Basic who’d been in the Air Force just long enough to graduate BMT, almost shot him. She had forgotten to take the safety off the M9 and Daniel grabbed it. “I’ll drive.” He said, pushing her out of the way. The male Airman who’d offered them a ride had gotten out already and was trying to get the higher ranking men in front of him to move, so Daniel didn’t meet any resistance to his demands.
    There were fewer zombies on the far side of the bridge than the wall that came crashing down on the refugees from the direction they’d come. Gunfire and screams filled the air when the undead came, racing down the streets like they had in every corner of America by now. It was almost a month into the crisis and already the military was crumbling, overrun at every turn and swallowed in their entirety when they feebly met the enemy in wasteful open engagements. Daniel briefly imagined how the men and women deployed abroad were handling this. Were they on their way home? Would those reinforcements arrive in time, and even if they did, would they make any difference? This was bad. Really bad. As the undead reached the main bridge that bypassed this older one, people began leaping for their lives.
    The Airman in the A-Driver’s seat pointed at the Humvee ahead when Daniel floored it, “Stop, that’s Colonel-“ She closed her eyes when Daniel rammed the parked Humvee, the two obese Fobbit * officers that had climbed out of their truck dived out of the way. One went over the side and into the water. Perhaps not the sharpest tool in the shed that one, when simply moving aside like his companion would have sufficed.
    “Get out and turn the steering