They Will Run You Down

Twenty-Four: Cutting Dead

It wasn't long before the steady hum of the engine, the fresh air and the twenty-four hours without sleep lulled Harley into a deep and dreamless coma.

But her nap would be discourteously interrupted as the group entered the small city of Port Augusta. The sensation of being jolted combined with the obnoxious drumming sound coming from the outer shell of the Jeep roused Harley into an agitated wakefulness. She lifted her head only to immediately realize it had been slumped against Edvin's muscular arm.

"Morning," he smirked but kept his neck craned, looking out the back window.

Gaining her bearings, Harley straightened up and blinked away the sand under her eyelids only to discover that the two Jeeps were surrounded by a mass of reeking Screamers, "What the-"

"No worries, I got this," Foss assured smoothly as he watched the reflection in his rear view mirror.

Hideous, salivating Screamers pounded endlessly on the outside of the vehicle but given that its armor was military grade S-Glass Fiber, there was virtually no chance that any of the creatures could break or even damage the exterior, and on top of that, the Jeep stood too high off of the ground for any of them to even attempt breaking the polycarbonate windows. Harley looked out the front windshield to discover that the convoy had been held up by a ghostly and long forgotten traffic jam. She turned around to see what everyone else seemed to be focused on and spotted the Jeep that held John, Robby and Perez. It was reversing away from the Screamers, down the street and toward an adjoining road in order to turn around.

Harley locked eyes with John once more and despite the animosity between them, she could still sense his worry for her, or at least that's what she told herself.

As both Jeeps carefully reversed away from the traffic jam, Harley leaned toward her window to look down at the thrashing mob of doltish varmints. She wasn't sure why or how but in some strange and morbid way she had missed the witless creatures during her stay in, what she called, Utopia. Maybe they simply reminded her of who she was before and represented what she longed to return to. free. A wanderer. Existing on her own terms.

Reaching into the large compartment of her backpack, Harley retrieved her Polaroid camera and snapped a photo of the view outside her window, the contorted faces of the infected at the forefront, more puerile and unfortunate than ever and the once ostentatious architecture surrounding, now derelict and haunted. Harley's eyes were perhaps the only ones who could see the beauty within decay and chaos.

After mowing down a couple dozen shrieking Screamers, the convoy managed to successfully readjust their direction and found a less crowded route through the city that led to the highway.

The hours following their departure from Port Augusta were for the most part, uneventful. They surreptitiously travelled passed Crystal Brook, Spalding and Morgan with little complication but had to plan an alternative route through the city of Mildura. With upwards of 52,000 residents in its prime, the group knew better than to get too close to the once bustling municipality.

It was somewhere in between Robinvale and Balranald that the convoy decided to stop on the shoulder of the highway for a much needed stretch and a chance to relieve themselves. As everyone piled out of the two Jeeps and into the dry, stifling heat, Harley took the opportunity to saunter nonchalantly toward John, who stood with his back toward her in a small circle comprised of himself, Foss and Perez. The three stretched their arms and legs and chatted casually as Harley approached.