The Road to Nowhere

Chapter 72: Special

Chapter 72

Arizona.

That's where we've ended up. It was an antagonizing three days to get here, but the new surroundings give me some hope. The landscape is not what I'm used too at all. Woods, fields, tall buildings and monuments are all things that Virginia made me familiar with. But the desert, I'm new too. It's hot as hell here, even though the nights back East are dipping almost to freezing. The air here is dry, like how the inside of a dryer feels when you open it after a load of laundry is done. The heat is almost like a wave, each second feels hotter than the first and it doesn't stop.

I've only seen cacti planted in gardens or small pots in stores, but here, they grow out of the dirt naturally. They caress the barren landscape like the foam coming off an ocean wave. Some of them are as tall as me. Most of the ground is red clay or golden sand; both hot to the touch and annoying when your shoes get full of it. The sun seems to shine brighter here, casting the heat on the terrain like it's a punishment from hell itself.

The reason we stopped here wasn't for the difference in scenery. It was because there's no one here. We haven't seen an infected in the last ten miles. That's a good sign. However, the only places that are livable are either standalone buildings in the middle of nowhere that are completely plucked clean or the scattered small towns surrounded by infected. If we're going to find a place here to stay, it's going to have to be the right mix of secluded and infected-free.

The car we took from Moen lasted a good day and a half. Then we had to find another car, which wasn't too hard. We stumbled upon an old warehouse in Oklahoma that had a couple of cars tucked inside. We chose the biggest one, which was a company van with bright green letters on the door saying Mason Automotive. It had a half a tank of gas still left in it. That tank of gas is almost empty now, and if we don't find a new car soon, we're stuck for the vultures.

How is everyone doing? Well, better than three days ago that's for sure. Naomi is still recovering from Darren's death. She mostly hides her feelings though. I did wake up one night when we stayed overnight in a bar near Santa Fe, and she was looking out the window while the moonlight illuminated her, and all I saw was crystal tears rolling down her face. She was silent, but I could tell she wasn't hurting any less.

The one person that's probably feeling worse is Layke. His wounds aren't getting better. We've practically run out of medical supplies since we've had to change his dressings multiple times a day. I'm rationing the antibiotics we have left because I know that once those are gone, any bacteria that get into his wounds could be fatal.

Scooter hasn't said much. I know Robbie's death has hurt him more than it's hurt anyone else. I can tell that it's still numbing his brain since he hasn't eaten a thing or gotten much sleep this whole trip. I know those are normal symptoms of an apocalypse, but he's gotten close to nothing to eat or sleep. The person that's "taken charge" ever since Scooter's shut down has been Cameron. And honestly, he's the one that's most sane right now. He's picked places for us to hide out for the night, found us some food to eat, (even though it was just a can of carrots we all had to share), and directed us on where to go with our best interests in mind.

Me? I'm fine, I guess. My back is still cut to hell, and it's been getting more painful as each day goes on. I'm trying to leave all the painkillers for Layke, but I managed to steal a couple when I felt like my skin was peeling off. The small cuts on my face from the broken window have finally turned to scabs. I was tired of them stinging every time I touched them. The one thing I've hated is the fact I smell like a barn. Everyone does, but it bothers me that we haven't had a chance to wash all the blood, sweat, and mutant goo off us.

I can't figure out how Brianna's taking in all this. She's been at Layke's side the entire trip, catering to him like a baby. She's also been doing the same to Wilbur. I mean, I understand it's stressful for a cat to be locked in a car but making us stop and letting him "get some air" every couple of hours has been annoying. We should have left that cat in Moen.