John woke first the following morning. He wanted to let Harley sleep in a little but couldn't afford to lose any more daylight than necessary.
But before John nudged her awake he stopped to look at Harley where she lay on her side, arms gently cocooning the tiny, sleeping pup. He was glad to see she hadn't disappeared on him in the night.
John nudged her shoulder, rousing her from sleep and with no words needed the pair began packing up their gear.
Before hitting the road, Harley fed Rebel more of the formula mixture and afterward placed him gently into her backpack with a cushion to keep him safe and as comfortable as possible during travel.
"Won't he cook alive in there?" Asked John worriedly.
Harley pulled one corner of the backpack down to show John that the inside was lined with the same material one would find in a cooler bag, "Not a fan of hot water"
It wasn't long before the sun was scorching, creating oily black mirages on the steamed pavement up ahead of the lonely pair as they walked dutifully toward the mechanics shop that Harley had circled on John's map the day before.
Harley stayed several paces ahead of her counterpart for the majority of the morning with the reasoning that she knew where she was going and John didn't.
But as the sun neared its peak in the sky it became obvious to John that Harley was slowing down, clearly in need of water and a break from the blistering heat.
"Hey, let's find somewhere to have a rest, yeah?" he insisted as he caught up to Harley.
She stopped ambling along and placed her hands on her hip-bones, grateful for an excuse to stop walking. As she turned to face John, however, Harley spotted a Screamer sprinting up behind him, "How have you stayed alive for this long?"
John furrowed his brow and cocked his head to one side, "What?"
Harley simply raised her hand and pointed behind him to get her point across.
John spun around to discover the Screamer but this one was different and it rendered him immobilized. The unfortunate creature had once been a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, and by the looks of it had met her sad fate during what should've been a happy day. She was adorned in the tattered remnants of a pink princess dress and in her greasy, knotted hair dangled a plastic crown with plastic rubies and plastic diamonds.
The sight of it was shocking for John.
The tiny Screamer lunged forward squealing desperately for a bite but John didn't have the grit in that moment to do what he had done dozens of times before. As it closed in, the symptoms of the virus became more apparent. Its bulging, bloodshot eyes from heat and pressure and its mouth excreting a thick, greenish-black sludge.
John could only watch passively, leaving Harley to get the job done herself.
She sidestepped around John and drove her trusty screwdriver into the little one's left temple where it instantly dropped to the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes. A quick death. Painless.
John stood speechless over the Screamer as Harley wiped her screwdriver on her ripped jean shorts and tucked it into her back pocket.
"Let's go," she said.
John brushed his hand over his mouth, "Yeah. . Thanks"
Unfortunately it became clear just then that the little Screamer's high pitched squeals had drawn the attention of other Screamers, these much larger and soon John and Harley found themselves being surrounded.
Harley grabbed John by his shirt, pulling him along as she broke into a mad dash toward the closest apartment complex on the other side of the street.
The pair could hear the collective howling of as many as twelve Screamers getting louder as they approached. Reaching the apartment's entrance, John began throwing his body up against the door while Harley pulled the screwdriver from her pocket once more and cracked the lock.
Miraculously, the two of them made it inside the complex and managed to slam the heavy door shut just as the Screamer's bodies collided into it like a swarm of birds to a glass window.
The beasts screamed and clawed and bashed their heads against the door. Harley and John backed away and turned to the space within the building, warily scanning the darkened hallway and staircases, one going up and one going down.
John went into his backpack and retrieved a small flashlight before the two of them ascended the stairs. Harley thought it a good oppurtunity to search for food and water and whatever else might be useful while John was simply eager to get away from the Screamers and out of the sun.
Harley walked up to one of the closed doors, knocking and then listening for any signs of life, of which there was none.
Upon entering, the place was tidy, seemingly untouched by the world outside apart from the layer of dust blanketing each surface. John's eye was immediately drawn to a full water cooler beside the refrigerator and paced over to it to drink his fill and top up his bottle.
Digging through the cupboards, Harley found two cans of cherry pie filling, tomato soup, pink salmon and evaporated milk.
"Might as well rest here for a bit," Harley insisted as she went to the living room and sat on the floor, taking Rebel out from her backpack and checking him over.
John sat down on a pastel floral sofa and Harley stretched out on her tummy on the carpet and rested her head on her arm, watching Rebel moved around, still hopelessly uncoordinated. The pup found Harley's face and tried his very best to suckle on her nose, making Harley wince and smile.
"Have you ever owned a dog before?" John asked before he took a swig of water.
"Some of the homes I lived in had pets," she answered, still gazing at Rebel.
"Foster homes?"
"Mhhm"
John started digging through his backpack to find something to eat "Foster kid, huh? I'm sorry. That must've sucked"
"Nah, it was great," Harley replied sarcastically.
John breathed a silent chuckle.
"So, how much farther to the shop?" He asked as he opened a can of corned beef.
"Bout and hour, provided we don't run into anymore Screamers"
John went to the kitchen and divided the corned beef onto two small plates, then returned to the living room and handed one to Harley. She mashed up a little bit of her portion and hand fed tiny pieces to Rebel before eating what was left over.
It was to be a short-lived respite for the newly acquainted pair before they were packed back up and moving onward toward the mechanics shop.
Once there, Harley gave John her backpack, and climbed in through a small window, as the shop door had been boarded up from the inside. John followed, handing Harley her bag and his before crawling through the small opening. They entered into a dusty office that still smelled of motor oil and rusty metal, then carefully proceeded into the shop, eyes peeled, for neither of them knew what they might find.
The space was screamer free but what they saw instead was equally disheartening. Two severely decomposed corpses hanging from ropes attached to the rafters. In the end, a lot people opted out, unwilling to face a life of hardship and desolation. It was understandable.
John and Harley left the bodies where they were and moved quickly to the three vehicles which sat in various stages of repair. The blue car had no engine, the beige car had no wheels, but the red truck looked complete. John got to work immediately, rummaging through the shop for motor oil, gasoline, and any other fluids the truck may need. Harley got into the tall truck and looked around for the key, finding it in the visor above the driver's seat. She then checked to see if the battery was still charged by turning the key to auxiliary mode.
"Batterys' good," Harley informed John as he made his way to the front of the truck with an armful of liquids. Harley popped the hood for John and hopped out, pacing over to where he was, so she could watch what he was doing.
John worked quickly, changing the oil and filter, adding coolant and pouring oil into the spark plug holes to lubricate the cylinder. Harley walked around the truck, checking the tires, which seemed to be in good shape, then took a stroll through the shop, looking for high octane gasoline. It was a lucky break, when in one of the back closets, were two full jerrycans of gas, which still smelled fresh. Harley brought them to the truck and wasted no time filling the tank with one can and placing the other in the back. Harley went to where John was to see how things were coming along.
"You know a lot about vehicles?" She asked.
"I get by," John admitted.
Within thirty minutes, John was finished under the hood and held his breath as he hopped into the driver's seat and turned the ignition. The truck whined and hesitated to start for a few seconds, but then roared to life with a screeching sound.
John looked up to see Harley standing near the hanging corpses with her camera, snapping a picture. She pulled the polaroid out, shook it, then paced back over to the truck and hopped into the passenger seat.
"How do we get the garage door open?" She asked John.
He got out of the truck and walked over to the door opener, pulling on a red rope which released the trolly from the attachment point to the rail, and the garage door flew open with a noisy grinding sound. John ran quickly back to the truck, knowing the noise would attract any nearby screamers, and with that, John and Harley rolled out of the garage and hit the road.
The combination of cool evening air and the constant hum of the engine were a perfect mix for unwanted attention from the infected. Harley and John were followed all through the city, and there had been a couple of close calls when they turned onto streets blocked with abandoned cars. Once they hit the back road that led safely out, Harley looked back one last time at the city, of which she knew in her heart she would never return.
The sun was beginning to set and it cast stringy golden streams of light through the thick trees and onto the road before them. Harley put Rebel on her lap then proceeded to nose through the truck's compartments. Amongst the junk she found a swiss army knife, a pack of cigarettes, matches and a Johnny Cash record. Harley popped the CD in and hit play.
○●○
John drove the entire night, unbroken by exhaustion or hunger or thirst. He was eager to get as far as he could as quickly as possible.
Harley slept peacefully in those dark and quiet hours, only being awakened when the morning light reflected off of something and into her eyes. She squinted as she tried to see what it was that had so abruptly drawn her back into the world, and saw that it had come from John's hand. He wore a thick gold wedding band on his finger, that Harley had never noticed before. She straightened up in her seat and brushed her hair behind her ears, "You should let me drive for a while," she insisted.
John scratched the stubble on his cheek, pulled onto the shoulder of the highway and switched off the ignition, "We'll eat first"
Harley and John shared a can of cherry pie filling and water chestnuts, then Harley prepared Rebel his formula in the small bowl she had packed, and helped him eat.
"How far did we get?" Harley asked.
John looked at the Kilometer gauge, "Close to 700 kilometers. We're almost at Higginsville"
Shortly after Harley jumped out of the truck to switch places with John while he refilled the gas tank with the other gerrycan and got into the passenger's seat of the truck. But when Harley turned the ignition, nothing happened. She tried again, pumping the break, but nothing. She checked to make sure the truck was in park, it was. Harley looked at John, "I think we're walking from here, mate"
The pair switched places once more, but it was no use. The trucks had malfunctioned in some way, and John didn't know how to fix it. He rubbed his face in frustration and let out a sigh. Harley placed Rebel back into her bag. She was accustomed to things not going as planned.
Soon they set out on foot. If anything, John was thankful that they were near Higginsville, and hopeful that they would find another vehicle there to use.
An hour or so had passed, and as they walked, the sun broke free of the treeline and radiated its heat down upon Harley and John. There came a sound suddenly from behind them, familiar and yet oddly alien. They turned to see a jeep approaching, and were both jolted by the revelation. Neither of them had seen another soul aside from each other in months, and weren't exactly sure what to do. Harley figured the safest bet would be to dive into the trees and remain unseen, but as she approached the treeline, several sickening screams erupted from behind the wall of foliage. She turned back to John who stood just behind her, looking equally torn about what to do. The jeep was catching up quickly. Harley and John had no choice but to run from the screamers, who they could hear snapping branches as they trampled through the bush. They had to stay on the highway, as it became apparent that the trees were no safer. The screamers burst out suddenly, sprinting full tilt in the direction of John and Harley. There were four of them, and as John struggled to retrieve his gun from his backpack, they gained more and more ground. With the jeep fast approaching, John stopped in his tracks and fired his gun, hitting two screamers in the head instantly. The other two zigged and zagged as they galloped on injured legs, making it difficult for John to get a kill shot. Just then, the jeep came up behind the last two screamers, and mowed them down with a grisly thud. John and Harley turned back and ran away from the jeep, as they both understood the risks of bumping into other survivors. The noise of the gunfire had regrettably attracted more screamers from inside the trees, and Harley and John found themselves in an impossible situation. The infected came from all directions, feral, bloodthirsty and howling like jackals. There was no where to run, that was, until the jeep screeched to a stop beside them, and a young man yelled, "Get in!"
With no other option, both John and Harley jumped into the back of the vehicle, slamming their doors shut just in the nick of time. The driver stomped on the gas pedal, and the jeep peeled out, running over a few more screamers in the process with noisy thumps that shook the vehicle and everyone inside.
It was a tense few moments as the jeep sped through the crowd of screamers. Once it had, Harley went into her backpack to check on Rebel, who was oblivious of the passing threat.
The young man in the passenger's seat turned to face Harley, "Close call. I'm Brandon, and this is Marcel," he smiled as he pointed to the driver.
Harley glanced up into the rear view mirror and saw the driver's deep set eyes gazing right back. She looked to John searchingly.
"Thanks for the help," John said, his weariness apparent in the tone of his voice.
"Hey, no problem. We were surprised to run into you, to be honest. We haven't seen any others in a long time," Brandon explained.
"Where did you come from?" John asked.
"Higginsville," Marcel, the driver, spoke without taking his eyes off his rear view mirror.
"What about you?" Brandon questioned.
"Perth," John replied.
"Looked like you two had some car troubles back there," Marcel said.
"Yeah," John agreed.
"Well, we can help you out with that. We've got an extra car back at the station. If you're willing to stick around for a day or two, we can have it up and running," Marcel offered.
John looked at Harley knowingly. Both of them understood that they had no other option, but the risks were high.
"How many others are in your group?" John asked.
"Two others," Marcel answered.
"Uhm.. Yeah. Appreciate it, thanks," John agreed hesitantly.
It was quiet for a moment before Brandon turned back to look at Harley, "That's a cute puppy, what's his name?"
Harley ignored Brandon and looked out the window.
"Where are you two headed?" Marcel asked.
John hesitated.
"Just looking for a safer place," he lied.
"That's a hard thing to find these days," Marcel said.
John nodded.
"What are your names?" Marcel questioned.
"I'm John, this is Harley"