Free Plagued: The Midamerica Zombie Half-Breed Experiment (Plagued States of America) by Better Hero Army Page A

for a replacement. If we go out there, we’ll sink. We’re two hundred gallons heavier now than back at the Hill,” Peske said irritably. “Even if none of us were on board we’d sink. No, it’s either double back and hope for the best or try the washouts and hope for the best.”
    “The washouts were pretty stable three months ago,” Mike offered. “I rode with Simon for a trip when you were sick, remember?”
    “Oh yeah,” Peske said absently.
    “There’s that old bridge at the creek between the two lakes,” Mike said, pointing toward the spot on the map. Tom peered over Peske’s shoulder and saw an old map of Illinois with several routes drawn out in red and with lots of notes, “x” marks, and new pathways dotted through places no roads had been before.
    “Let’s give that a shot,” Hank said and Peske began folding the map. Tom turned around, expecting to sit down again. Tyler was hovering over his shoulder. Two other visitors and the hunter named Rick as well. Peske shoved the map into a glove compartment and spun around to back the duck up.
    “What are you all doing up here?” Peske snapped. He looked up at Tom, who had raised his eyebrows and nodded toward Tyler. Peske sighed. “Look, everyone, we normally just drive straight across here, but with the main float broken, we’re too heavy. We’ll sink if we try. So we’re going around to the west where the hills washed out a few times and made a dam and a nice little creek crossing. That means there won’t be any roads to follow. But don’t worry. We’ll get through fine. There are plenty of old Jeep trails and lots of open space. Only a few forested areas where biters may be around, but they’ll be few and far between, so don’t go getting scared if you see any. They’ll just as likely be afraid of us. Let Mike or Rick or Dave know if you see one and for Pete’s sake, keep your asses on the deck. Alright?”
    Tyler looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead nodded. Rick and Mike also nodded once with that grim expression that came with experiences such as these. Tom nodded appreciably when Peske looked back at him.
    “Go sit your ass down,” Peske grumbled at Tom. The old slaver ground the duck into reverse and they shuddered back into motion. Tom didn’t gloat, and Peske hadn’t ceded, but both knew that everyone felt better for having the explanation.

Eighteen
    They drove west along a twisting two-lane road that sagged toward the lake. Large sections of the road had eroded in places, forcing the duck to keep a slower pace than they had managed on the main highway. The bridge Mike thought was intact turned out to be fine. The road on the other side, however, had fallen into the river, leaving a six foot wide gap. Peske made everyone get off the duck and stand on the bridge while he drove around to the mouth of the river to ford. Being on the ground again made Tom feel vulnerable, exposed if any zombies should amble along. How would they escape if any came? The three hunters kept mindful watch in all directions, but it wasn’t any comfort.
    The duck nosed into the river, leaning precariously to the side as if it might fall. As the vehicle shook one way, Tom watched Penelope holding onto the bars of her cage, getting jostled repeatedly. “Hang on,” Peske kept telling her over his shoulder just before giving the vehicle a little gas. Peske stopped several times, climbing out of his seat to look over the hood into the deep riverbed as the engine idled with a gurgle. He corrected his course slightly and the duck tipped the other direction.
    “He’s going to flip it over,” Tyler complained to Hank.
    “He’s got it,” Hank said sourly, but he didn’t sound overly convinced of it himself.
    Everyone gasped collectively when the duck pitched hard, splashing sidelong in the water. The half-breed fell from one side of her cage to the other and even Peske fell into the passenger seat. The current of the river pushed