Dead Ahead Read Free Page B

sheath in his boot.
    His dad wore the bike gear as usual; there was no time for washing clothes, besides, he hadn’t changed out of them since what happened at the shop. His light brown hair was lank and greasy now and he had to keep flicking it away from his dark sunken eyes. Brandon wasn’t sure if his dad actually slept any more. He had gradually been getting thinner; not for lack of eating, there was always plenty of food to be found, but still his dad didn’t look healthy. The good length of stubble growing on his slim face was doing a good job of hiding it though. On his back he wore his rucksack, just a small one; they had to travel light, with his machete handle poking out of the top and his bike helmet strapped to the side. He took the Naginata (bladed staff) from Brandons’ hand without taking his eyes from the infected for a few seconds then turned back; about to speak.
    “It’s the infected ones you have to watch out for! Yeah! I know dad, you told me!” Brandon said in a slightly tired and sarcastic tone.
    “I’m just trying to press a point son! It’s the infected ones that are quick! They are the ones that are mostly human; they still have all their muscle mass to keep them going. But yeah! I suppose you are right, I don’t have to tell you every time. After….Y’know....?”
    ‘He’s right’ , Brandon thought to himself. ‘ They are faster.’ They would ramble around like the ‘husks’ (that’s what his dad called the turned ones, he didn’t like it when Brandon said ‘zombies’) but when they catch the scent of flesh they are fast, too fast. That’s why he has them walk, to keep them strong. They tried using cars in the beginning. But the noise just attracted the infected, and when you ran out of fuel, which you always did, they were there waiting for you. That had been a harsh lesson to learn for both of them.
    So they stuck to the back roads and train tracks for now. There seemed to be less of them there.
    “We head for the border and then for the coast, then we head out to a nice small island somewhere, a place we can be safe from these bastardin’ things.”
    That’s all his dad seemed to do lately, repeat himself, though he had been adding in more and more swearing in the past few days.
    “Dad?”
    “Yes son?”
    “Do you think mums ok?”
    “Aww! Jesus fucking Christ Brandon! Not this again!”
    “I’m sorry dad. I just worry about her!
    “I know, I know, I’m sorry too. But I’ve said it before. John’s a good guy, I’m sure he can take care of your mother, and she’s not exactly helpless herself. Remember when she attacked me with that wooden spoon?”
    Brandon smiled thinly, but he couldn’t laugh, he had too many things going on in his head. His dad needed him; he could already see him losing it a little. He wasn’t as afraid of the husks as he should be. He wasn’t even afraid of the infected any more. He had fought five of them to clear out a shop in the last town they were in, just to get some food.
    The shop had seemed empty when they had first entered. They thought they had hit a gold mine. There were rows and rows of food, more than they could ever eat. They had actually whooped with joy, but that’s when they came at them. Brandon had stood with his back to the door, fumbling with the key that had been left in it, desperately trying to get it open again, while his dad sunk the machete into the head of the first to attack, it didn’t stop it though, it kept coming. He kept hold of the handle, ducking under his own arm and twisting the machete, snapping its neck to the side and splitting its head open with a crack, releasing the machete and spilling its brains out over a counter.
    He planted his left boot into the chest of the next infected and sunk the machete diagonally halfway into its neck lodging it into its collar bone. He let go of the machete and kicked up with his right foot connecting with the machete handle overbalancing the infected and