Fountain of the Dead Read Free Page B

work.”
    “Frank, I said no.” Catherine turned her attention back to the road.
    Catherine slid her hand onto his, then down the steering wheel and turned the engine off.
    “ What are you doing? ”
    “ That street over there, the houses look mostly intact. There might be people living in them. ” Frank took out his pistol and placed it on the seat between them. He looked at the street ahead of the car; the dead were closer. Frank slid the safety off on the gun.
    “What’s the plan, Catherine? Drive through the cul-de-sac and kill anything that moves?”
    “Let’s start with you driving down the street.” She started the car. “ Go down that cul-de-sac, be ready for anything. ” The little grey Impala had seen them on a chunk of their journey. It was getting tired. Frank turned the car, the belts squealed in protest. Catherine looked at each house as they drove past it; they were in center of the suburbs before the meteor storm, now little more than a vacant waste.
    “ What are you thinking, Frank? ”
    Frank scanned the houses and the street ahead of them. It ended in a turnabout, a ragged street hockey net in a driveway. A dark stain discolored the road in front of it. Broken hockey sticks crusted with dried blood were discarded on an unkempt lawn.
    “ I think we can hold up here once we sweep the houses, no surprises. ” Frank gritted his teeth and stopped the car and shifted into park. “We play this right we can build ourselves a little prison here.” Frank looked through the rearview mirror again.
    “ How do you want to do this, Frank? ”
    Frank glanced in the rearview and spun in the seat; he pointed out the rear window. “ I think I want to pull that Home Depot truck around before someone else gets at it. Stay here. ” Frank leapt from the car and slammed the door shut behind him. He bolted up the street, keeping low as he ran, the pistol tight in his hand. He didn’t notice the curtains move in one of the houses. Catherine reached into the glove compartment and took out the revolver to cover him. He darted from the street to the main road and dove under an abandoned car. Something inside was thumping around above him. The truck was close; the zombies from ten minutes ago were closer.
    Frank took aim down the road. He debated on taking the shot, there was no telling how many more would come once the shot echoed through the street. He dry swallowed and made a run for the truck. It was packed with lumber, cinderblocks and fencing. He patted the straps that held the payload in place affectionately and went to the cab. The driver ’ s door was open and airbag deployed a bloody smear across the deflated nylon.
    He climbed in and took a deep breath; nothing smelled “ off, ” nothing rotten or bloated. Whoever had been driving was dragged out and eaten or escaped. There wasn ’ t enough blood inside the cab for a body to be ripped apart.
    Spinning out of the seat he climbed into the rear compartment, small cot, empty cooler with a melted ice pack and a duffle bag under the cot. Frank reached into it and pulled out two shotguns and boxes of shells. He smiled and looked for the keys.
    Catherine watched him through the window, after turning in the seat. She thought for a brief moment about rolling the window down and sitting on the door frame. A shiver raced down her spine at the memory of someone she witnessed yanked out of the window of a car and devoured while he screamed. She crawled over the seat into the back to get a better view. If something happened she’d have to shoot out the back window.
    By the time she got situated in the back, Frank had just climbed into the truck. She waited for what seemed like hours, in reality it was a few minutes. When Frank stuck his head out of the cab and waved, a brief bit of relief came over her. Catherine slid back in the seat and sighed, then looked over to the closest house. A woman stood on the porch, long pony tail tossed over her shoulder, a young girl