Survivors of the Z’s- Rhonda Gedling, outside Colorado
I held the note in my tired hand and I looked at it with my tired eyes and tired mind.
Was a complete shambles. I hated what I was looking at. I hated the fact that everything seemed to be dying before me. In my wake I was leaving corpses behind. I thought I was doing some good. I thought I was saving them
It felt like I was driving them further into their inevitable graves. Giving them an earlier death. Making their hands slip off the edge in the sea of knives below them.
Was I death?
Was I the signature to sign the warrant?
First my sister now this man that I had only known for a second. I was still staring at the death in front of me.
I looked a way and walked through passed the kitchen with the open draw. I sat down at the table and looked out of the window at the openess. Feeling sorry for myself? I didn’t notice the devil standing in front of me
She stood at the door “He’s dead?”
“What do you think?”
Pain flooded my voice.
“Now that’s a blood bath,” she said, “the hell happened here anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said, “looks like we’re going to be seeing this quite often”
“Well, other than the dead bodies, this is a nice RV”
“You kidding right?”
“That cars fucked”
“Thats my car”
“And it’s fucked, look at this, it’ll be stupid to pass this up”
“We can’t leave my car in the middle of nowhere”
I loved it to bits
It wasn’t just a vehicle. It wasn’t JUST my car. It was my best friend. A friend that I spoke to when I drove her. A friend that never judged me.
One of the true friends I had and I didn’t have many.
“It’s only a car, it’s old and banged up, look at it, at least we have a bed to sleep in”
“Are you forgetting about the dead fucking bodies?”
“We can move them”
“No, this is not happening, no way”
“Are you kidding me? We don’t have a fucking clue where we’re going, so that means we’re going to be on the road for a while I assume and you’d rather be in a poxy little car”
“I’m not discussing this”
“I’m the mother, so we’re doing this”
“Don’t you fucking dear play that card on me, you have no right”
We then heard a noise coming from the bedroom. I went to get up and she put her arm out.
“I’ll deal with it,” she told, she put out her hand, “the gun”
I gave it her
“Wait,” I said
“I’ll be fine”
The grunts were heard. I got up and followed her in and there I saw him.
Gingerly rising from the bed. She went in slowly and I watched it hissing with its lifeless eyes. The cut from its throat leaked out the insides. Blood spilled out on to the bed. She lifted the gun up and shot it clean in the head.
It’s head bounced back and it collapsed back on to the bed.
No noises now
Just more dead bodies with holes in their heads
“Stinks,” she said
“and you want to sleep in here?”
“I’m sure they have cleaning stuff in here somewhere”
“And where are we going to put the bodies huh?”
“What’s with all the questions, listen, the world is screwed, we all know that, what we saw back at the motel said it all, the president sounded like he was worried and that isn’t good, if we’re at war, then this disease has already taken over many cities and it’s still spreading and it’s spreading fast, you heard them. WE. ARE. SCREWED. And I’m not spending my last moments in that car, plus, I’ve always wanted an RV, so what do you say, live out our last days in this? It’ll be awesome”
“You’ve given up already?” I said
“You’ll be giving up if you don’t take advantage of this opportunity”
Kind of right I suppose
The RV was nice. Other than the stench and the dead bodies, but they were disposable. We could easily get rid of them. It was just the sentiment I held for my love. The love I held dearly for it and to just leave it in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t feel right.
She was kinda right
I took a deep breath. I felt her gaze on me. She was waiting for me to give her the answer she wanted and that answer was most certainly…
“So?” She asked
“Ok,” I told, “ok”
She smiled, “You know it makes sense”
I got up and walked out. Walked over to my car and stood beside it. Gazed upon the cracked screen and dried blood. Thought about everything that the car and I had been through. From the long- depressive- lonely- drives. To the happy ones with my sister and then the cracked screen with the dried blood again.
There was more blood to come. That thought was seeping in.
“You’ve been so good to me,” I said, “got me from A to B, took me on long drives when I needed them, you never let me down, never, you’re my car, no… you’re my friend and I will always remember you,” I touched her bonnet, “goodbye Samantha”