Johnny America

 

Af­ter the Zom­bies Came: Day 14

by

Jen­ny yanked the re­lease for the emer­gency brake and let the Fair­lane roll. She’d smashed through the pas­sen­ger side af­ter spot­ting a chained rab­bit’s foot dan­gling from the ig­ni­tion. A shard of glass was dig­ging in­to her thigh.

Jen­ny no­ticed the stat­uette of Saint Christop­er on the dash as she reached to ad­just the rear-view mir­ror. “You’d bet­ter be with me,” she told him.

She took in the re­flec­tion and re­al­ized how much time she’d lost hunt­ing trans­porta­tion; the hoard was clos­ing fast. “Bet­ter pay off,” she mut­tered, “or I’m through.”

The Fair­lane was inch­ing along the pave­ment, but she could see the steep slope of Dead Man’s Butte a sec­ond’s run ahead. Jen­ny jammed the clutch to the floor­board, but the en­gine did­n’t turn. “Come on, come on,” she pleaded.

The Fair­lane crest­ed and start­ed bar­rel­ing down the hill. Jen­ny popped the clutch and wiped the sweat from her neck.

She pulled off the high­way at mile mark­er 15, opened the door, and vom­it­ed on the grav­el shoulder.

Filed under Fiction & Zombies, of or Relating to on July 1st, 2005

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Jackie Treiber wrote:

Ex­quis­ite! This one in par­tic­u­lar is my fa­vorite-hands down.

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