Dead Earth (old version)

Chapter Nine - Martin

Sophia and Martin had left the house a few days after what Sophia was calling the First Strike. She had also started calling the undead the 'Unholy' which was getting on his nerves. When they had returned to the living room they found that there were several Walkers, as Martin was calling them, in the room. 

He never did find his mother. She might have run out of the house, or maybe she'd been eaten. He'd probably never know. What he did know was that it was the apocalypse and he was stuck with Sophia of all people. 

"Nine, ten, eleven." Sophia whispered as they passed several burned-out buildings. 

"Will you shut up already? All you're going to accomplish is attracting Walkers." Martin told her irritably.

"The Unholy ones shall not get me. They go after fellow Unholy."

"No, they go after food, which is us. I don't particularly want to be dinner, so be quiet." 

Martin carefully checked around the corner of another building, this one in slightly better condition, and found a completely empty road. Any empty roads were probably a trap, but Sophia had already started walking away down the street, swinging her pack.

"They go after the ones the find unholy and they make them the Unholy." She was eyeing him suspiciously now. "They'll go after you, boy."

Martin just shook his head and tuned her out. She definitely was not the ideal person to be with if they got into trouble. He'd been able to keep her away from the Walkers, but it was highly likely at some point she'd try to hug one again. Apparently she thought if they could sense her 'Holiness' they wouldn't attack and would be cured. 

"We need to find a place to make camp, Sophia. Tomorrow we're getting out of this town, find a car or something." 

They had supplies, enough to last another week, but most places had been looted already. As far as he could tell they'd almost made it to the border of New York, having driven his car until two days previous. That got them farther than he expected, but ran out of gas and had to be left behind. 

He checked another car sitting on the side of the road, not expecting it to work. He was right. 

"Trashed." He said simply, and walked on. 

Looters and rioters had ruined many of the cars that were lying around, what they really needed was to find an unlooted gas station, find gas cans. They could travel elsewhere, somewhere safer. Preferably without Sophia tailing along. 

Eventually they did come across a gas station, still in New York, as far as he could tell. It had been looted for food, but there were at least twelve cars sitting out front, and there was a chance they'd work. 

The first five didn't, but the next one he tried did, and the next. 

"Two cars," He laughed out loud. 

While he'd been testing cars, Sophia had been helpful for once and found three 5-gallon gas cans in a backroom of the station. 

"We could take both cars, we'd be able to carry more stuff." 

"I don't drive, boy. Haven't for ten years, and I don't plan on starting again now." Sophia sniffed. 

"It's not like there's cops patrolling, Sophia. You're driving, or you aren't coming along." Martin hopped in a little light blue car, delightedly starting it up. 

She stood there silently, staring at him. She rolled her eyes before sighing loud enough to wake the dead, which was actually highly likely now, and slowly climbed into the driver's seat of the slightly dirty, golden Taurus. 

She looked quite confused, as if she expected the car to start up automatically when she got in. 

"The key is on the dashboard." Martin called over, out the now open window of his car. On second thought, he rolled the window up and shut the car off. 

She continued to look rather confused until he opened her door, took the keys from their spot behind the steering wheel,  and handed them to her. He waited until she had started the car, then asked her what she knew about cars.

"They're the devil's business and not to be messed with." She responded sullenly.

"Gas pedal is on the right, brake on the left. See that little stick next to your right arm? Put it next to D and it'll drive forwards. Put it next to R it'll go--." 

"Backwards, yes, I know. P for park, N for neutral. Just because I don't drive doesn't mean I can't, boy." Sophia peered up at him through her dirty glasses. 

"Okay, then. Follow me, I guess." Martin strode back to his car, made sure the book-bag and hiking pack he'd been carrying were out of sight on the floor, and took off. 

Zooming out of the parking lot he glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure Sophia had followed. 

Quite contrary to what she had claimed, Sophia seemed quite adept at driving a car. If she wanted, she could've been a NASCAR driver. She had all of the windows down and was driving much faster than him, he could barely see her car. He did, however, hear several popping noises and then a crashing noise, as her car veered off the road and into a steep ditch. 

He sighed to himself, "Really, Sophia?" 

He slowed his car as he got to where she was, which took several minutes, and found the car was empty and all the doors were open. He almost stopped, but reconsidered as he saw many more sets of footprints in the mud next to it. 

He continued to drive carefully, still keeping the car in his sights, when he saw the body. The windshield was completely shattered, and for all her supposed knowledge of cars, Sophia hadn't been wearing a seat belt. 

Not seeing any movement, he snatched his only weapon, his old hunting rifle he used on hunts up north with his uncle, and walked to the totaled car. 

He checked on Sophia, definitely dead. He checked the car, everything was gone. At least she'd had the least amount of supplies, he thought grimly. There were multiple bullet holes in the tires, fellow survivors most likely. The popping noise he'd heard must have been the guns or the tires, he wasn't sure. 

He left the scene quickly after confirming she wouldn't turn. Although he had detested Sophia, he was almost sad that she was dead, the last familiar face he had left, gone.