Chapter Sixteen: That Guy’s Not So Bad

Gavin caught the keys and tossed them straight to Madison.

Madison walked toward the old Ford belonging to William and his companion, opened the door, and began rummaging through it at lightning speed. After about thirty seconds, he returned with an 8x scope and a short-barreled shotgun, his pockets stuffed with shells.

"Gavin, look at this unexpected haul," he said, holding up the shotgun. "There’s a lever-action shotgun in his car—a Winchester M1887, the kind the Governor used. It’s cool as hell!"

"Is that so? Is that why you took so long?" Gavin took the scope, weighed it in his hands, and shook his head. "If you had been any later, you wouldn't have even needed this thing."

As he spoke, Gavin raised the scope, using the moonlight and the dim glow of the streetlamps to peer at the silhouette in the distance. The figure had drawn much closer, and was now quite distinct. Gavin, however, was checking to see if there were more trailing behind.

Satisfied that the stumbling figure on the road was solitary, Gavin exhaled, clipped the scope to his belt, and turned back. "Only one zombie. Dressed in a gas station uniform—looks like the clerk is here to collect our payment, pal."

"Is that right? Then we’d better have a serious talk about the price." Madison chuckled, racking the lever of the Winchester to chamber a round, and aimed the muzzle at Eugene, who was still on the ground.

William, nearby, was dazed and drowning in grief. Eugene, however, reeking of alcohol, caught Gavin’s words and blurted out, "You’re saying that shadow over there is a goddamn zombie? Is that some kind of metaphor, or are you just mocking me for crashing into a film set?"

"Heh." Gavin didn't answer. He walked over to Madison and patted his shoulder. "Keep an eye on them. I’m going to take care of it."

"By yourself?"

"Any problem with that? We’ll have to get used to dealing with them sooner or later. Since there’s only one, we might as well use it for practice. Besides, I don’t feel like explaining the details to those two. Better to just give them a bit of a visual shock."

With that, Gavin holstered his Colt and went back into the store to grab a military saber. He climbed into his truck and drove toward the zombie, keeping a close watch on the distance. He was about six hundred meters away. As the truck closed the gap, he kept his eyes locked on the creature until he was only a hundred and forty meters out. Suddenly, the zombie, which had been shuffling along, broke into a dead sprint.

"Typical engine noise draws them in from about a hundred and forty meters," Gavin muttered. He stopped the car, stepped out with the saber, and waited. As the zombie neared, he took a few quick steps forward, timed his distance, and slashed at its shoulder. He swung with such force that the zombie, mid-lunge, was slammed flat onto the ground. Before it could rise, Gavin brought the blade down repeatedly, severing its head entirely.

Even headless, the clerk-zombie continued to snap its jaws in a silent, snarling motion, much like a twitching muscle. Gavin spat, reached down to grab the clerk by the hair, and carried the head back to the car. To avoid staining the interior, he hung the head outside the passenger window and drove back to where Eugene and William waited.

William was still stunned, but the moment Eugene saw the head, he let out a horrified shriek. "God almighty, that thing is still moving!"

"Did he kill someone? Gavin actually killed someone!" William stammered, but before he could finish, Eugene slapped him on the backside.

"Look closely, you idiot! The head is moving! Did I smoke too much weed or something?"

"Holy shit, it really is moving!" Prompted by Eugene, William finally saw the zombie’s jaw snapping rhythmically.

Gavin tossed the head at their feet. It rolled twice and stopped right by William’s shoes. In the light from the gas station, William watched in terror as the severed head attempted to gnaw on his footwear. Panicked, he kicked the head away with his right foot, sending it flying toward the convenience store door, while he hopped around on one leg, howling in pain.

"Fuck, I didn't even get a good look, you moron!" Eugene didn't laugh; he scolded William, wanting to lean in for a closer look. But as he moved, Madison leveled his shotgun at him. Eugene looked up at Gavin, who waved a hand.

"Old Mac, let it go."

"Humph, consider yourself lucky!" Madison nodded and gave Eugene a firm nudge in the back with his rifle butt.

Ignoring him, Eugene lunged toward the head, eyes wide, and snatched it up. "Fuck..." He stared into the zombie’s eyes for a long moment before shoving it toward William. "Let’s go. Get in the car. We’re going home!"

"What... what do you mean home? Fuck, why is it still moving if the head is cut off? Am I dreaming, Eugene?"

"Get a grip, damn it! We have to get home! My sister and nephew are there, and so are your father and brother. Haven't you realized Texas has gone to hell? I don't have to go to jail anymore, but this is way worse than jail, fuck!"

Eugene threw the head aside and hauled the shell-shocked William back into their car. As he shoved William into the passenger seat, he turned to glare at Gavin and Madison. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Next time... next time I see you, I’m blowing your brains out from a hundred yards away!"

"Idiot, save the threats for when there actually is a next time. Be careful on the way back, and watch a few more zombie movies," Gavin said with a wave and a grin.

Eugene, his face a pale, sickly shade, climbed into the Ford and drove off into the distance. Once the car had vanished, Madison leaned toward Gavin and poked his arm. "That guy wasn't bad—the short guy with the buzz cut. You’re just letting them go? They could have been useful."

Eugene was only about 1.75 meters tall, so he was indeed a short guy compared to the two of them. Gavin shrugged. "I thought you found him annoying. You two were arguing pretty fiercely."

"So what? I know his type. You have to be tough with guys like that. But he’s sharp, and he’s cautious. The little cop, William, is just a greenhorn, but Eugene is a veteran. Me finding him annoying and me respecting him aren't mutually exclusive."

Madison looked at Gavin expectantly. Gavin shook his head. "Didn't you hear him? They have a reason to get home. In the face of a disaster, who would stop a man from reaching his family?"

"Fair enough. That’s actually part of why I think he’s all right. At least his first thought was his sister and that kid’s old man."

After the chat, Madison went back inside to finish scavenging without needing to be told. Gavin lit a cigarette and continued to browse the store's inventory. In America, convenience stores were generally well-stocked, if a bit disorganized; Gavin even found a crate of basic gas masks. But carrying the entire contents of the store in a pickup truck was a fantasy. After six or seven minutes of picking through the goods, the bed of the truck was nearly full.

Gavin tossed two cases of bottled water into the back and surveyed the load. "That’s enough. Let’s go. Maybe we can reach my place before sunrise."

"Works for me. Besides, there’s nothing good in this little store anyway—not even a single Fleshlight." Madison said with a smirk, stacking the last four gallons of fuel in the truck bed. He gestured toward the driver's seat. "Let me drive this time. You really need to rest. I know the way to Kearns; your place is near there, right?"

"That's right." Gavin agreed and moved to the passenger side. Madison hopped into the driver's seat, rubbing his hands excitedly over the steering wheel. As he started the engine, Gavin tapped on the window. "Don’t take the main road. The highway ahead cuts straight between Ennis and Corsicana."

"I know. We need to avoid the high-traffic areas. But speaking of Ennis..." Madison paused, glancing over at Gavin.