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"Who knows? Maybe they got bit and tried to hide it. Just died right in the middle of a traffic jam?" Mike shrugged. He looked over the edge of the truck bed and nearly fell over himself backpedaling. "Friggin' shambler! Must have bought it in the back after being bit!" he gibbered, heart pounding. He crab-crawled all the way back from the truck as far as he could get, bumping into an actual Jeep at last, purely by accident.
He turned over to look under it, then checked the driver's seat. "Another one here too. Damn, they're really piling up around here!" he muttered. He tried the door, again finding it unlocked. Weird how people never remembered to lock their doors. That probably killed a lot of people on day zero.
He quickly opened the door and sank his knife into the shambler's eyesocket before it could turn all the way and take a chunk out of his wrist. He unbuckled it and pulled it out of the seat. It left a lot of skin behind, along with the horrid smell that Mike was unfortunately getting used to.
"You know anything about siphoning gas?" he asked, looking back at Haven. "We're definitely going to have to get more gas if even one of these things actually works. Bit more likely to be less scrapped here at least..."
"I've seen it done in movies, but I don't have any practical knowledge of it," she said. "Don't they make like, automated versions now? We should get one. Like how you don't have to mouth pipette anymore, they have tools for that."
The trunk of the car she was looking over finally popped open, and Haven made a triumphant gesture with her fist. She glanced it over quickly, and then started digging through the bags. It was mostly clothes, and then at the bottom she found "jackpot. Canned goods. Mostly potatoes, I think this guy had a favorite food. We've also got tomato soup, and... is this corned beef hash? It's sort of out of place, but I won't complain. We've got a half a dozen cans here, Mike."
She glanced over at his jeep, specifically at the rotting corpse he'd just dumped out of it, and grimaced. "Please tell me we're taking a car that doesn't contain... dead thing."
Mike was grumbling to himself, then swore loudly when there was a sharp snap! He climbed back out of the car.
"Nope. The damn ignition key snapped in half from rust. Looks like the roof had a leak in it. Two years of rust and leaving the key in the ignition? No way that thing was ever gonna roll again." He sighed, shouldering his backpack more securely again.
Then he walked over to Haven, examining the cans.
"But dang! This makes up for it, almost! If we space this out, we got enough food for a week! And it's not beans!" he crowed, sounding like he was ready to devour them immediately. "You don't understand how many beans I had to eat by myself for two years. No one ever took the stuff. It tasted like mud half the time. I'd kill for that hash. Uh, you know. Like a spider or a walker. Not a person. That's a little extreme."
He laughed giddily, then hooked a thumb at his hiking backpack. "Do you want me to carry it? I've been building mass ever since this thing started! The apocalyptic diet, I'll call it. You really don't see fat people anymore. Just not enough food going around. Maybe if we run into a settlement we'll find one!"
Haven nodded absently, hardly listening, tossing about half of the cans into her backpack. "Here," she said. "We'll split the load. It's only fair."
Besides, it would stop him from potentially running off with all of the food. She wasn't particularly expecting him to run off - part of her suspected that he was actually rather grateful to be with her. He'd survived fine without her, for sure, but he didn't exactly seem to be doing worse with her.
After offering him the rest of the cans, Haven started toward the next car. Realistically, they could only canvass a certain number of cars before they had to find a place to sleep for the night. Granted, a car would probably make a decent place to sleep, if they could find an empty minivan or something like that. Really just something that didn't smell like death.
Keeping that in mind, she started focusing on cars and trucks that didn't contain corpses. There were a lot more that did than ones that didn't, keeping her constantly on her toes. Even then, Bee had to alert her to the biter that was slowly reaching for her from under a dark red pickup truck. It must have been starving, it could hardly move. When she bent down to take it out with her axe, she felt like she was doing it a favor.
With the grabber dispatched, she climbed into the cab and started searching it for anything useful. She didn't find much - half a pack of cigarettes, some granola bar wrappers... wait, what was that?
"Hey," she called. "I've got keys. They're in pretty good shape, too. This truck was new."
"Really?" asked Michael in half-disbelief. Not like shad much of a reason to lie. It was definitely one of those things you never ever lied about. He jogged to catch up to her after making sure his backpack was fully zipped up with the new food supplies.
The red pickup did indeed look brand new. Must have been built and bought just before the plague was unleashed. "Somethin' like this...This thing could roll over those damn shamblers! You just hit one in the middle of the road? Keep driving because it just flipped into the bed!" he said excitedly, barely remembering to keep his voice down.
"P-pop the hood, let's make sure there's nothing trying to live in the radiator or anythin'! My b-b-" he faltered for a moment and grew quiet. Then he blinked and started talking like nothing happened. "I had a friend who showed me some mechanical stuff once. Said he wanted me to be all manly and junk. Heh. Never did learn most of it. But I can probably at least clean up what needs cleaning inside this thing." He knocked quietly on the hood for emphasis. Then he bent low and kept his ear to it.
Somehow, weird things always ended up in hoods. He didn't want to get surprised by a walker head guarding the brake fluids.
Haven sat herself in the drivers seat, quickly scanning the dashboard for the hood release. If he didn't want to tell her whatever he'd stumbled on telling her, she couldn't really complain about that.
She hit a button that looked like it might be the right one, and the truck's hazard lights came on. She squeaked despite herself and quickly hit the button again to turn them off, glancing wildly about her to make sure she hadn't just attracted a hoarde.
After a tense moment had passed, Haven very carefully pulled the lever she saw under the steering wheel, and heard a -click- of the hood unlocking. She caught Mike's eye and raised an eyebrow, not daring to get too excited just yet. After all, just because the engine was clear didn't mean the truck was going to start.
Mike opened the hood and almost immediately began to mutter as his thoughts accelerated. "The battery has...a lot of buildup. Not sure what it's called. Crap? It's got crap on it. My, uh, friend, he said it just got there naturally. I'd need....cleaning junk, to remove it. Reduces the battery's life the more of it gets on there."
He moved on, pulling out caps on various jugs, bending to see how filled certain containers were, and even felt along a few hoses for holes. After a while, he shut the hood with a clunk! and walked over to the passenger door. He opened it and got in, folding his hands and thinking.
"Well," he began, "The brake fluids are low. Hell, everything is low. If we need to stop this thing, we need a lot of distance. Don't bother trying to use the washer, it's totally tapped. The oil is hanging in there and everything else looks like it was kept alright. Almost like..."
He paused, then shook his head.
"No, no way. No way in hell someone these days abandons a working vehicle. Yes," he looked at Haven, grinning widely, "I think she'll still manage a few miles. If we got her to a mechanic or an auto-shop that hasn't be scavenged...Well, I obviously don't know how to fix anything that's broken in the engine area, but I could refill what needs refilling. Plus, we need gas. You spot one of those siphon things in here?"
Haven shook her head, surprised enough by the luck they'd already had. "I don't see one in here. But all we need is a clear tube. I can probably siphon some in a pinch, if we find a car that still has gas. We'll look around, I'm sure one of these cars has something we can use."
She hopped down back onto the highway and started staking out the car directly in front of the truck. "We're going to need to get a path, too, I think if we move these two cars aside we can get through. Can't promise how long that will take with just the two of us, though."
The first car didn't have much of use, suitcases full of clothes and a box of granola bars, one missing. She tucked it into her backpack. "Do you like granola? Found some granola bars, they make a decent enough meal if you're desperate." She glanced back toward Mike for a moment, and in the process, saw what she thought just might be their savior.
"Hey, look." She pointed past him at a white box truck. "Duct and heating repair, they might have something." She started toward the truck, Bee following her like a shadow. She tried her best to keep her distance from the other cars, remembering the hand grabbing at her from underneath the truck.
"Shoot, I'm not dumb enough to turn my nose up at anything anymore. I always hated eating broccoli. I'd give the clothes off my back for a plate right about now," he answered, hopping out of the truck. He glanced at the van she had mentioned, then started following her towards it as well. He was taking it extra slow, holding his knife ready just in case a shambler felt like getting a little fresh.
One arm did lean out from underneath an SUV. Mike stifled a yelp and stamped hard on the withered arm. The wrist crumbled easily. Apparently these things either hated the winter as much as he did or they didn't too well without a good meal.
He moved a bit more slowly after that, and when they reached the van, he motioned towards the back. "Gotta make sure they didn't tie up anyone and leave them for dead in the back. I've uh..." he licked his lips, shaking his head, "I've seen some strange stuff in the back of cars from Before. Guess when it looked like the end, people were already turning nuts."
He headed towards the back doors and tried them. Locked.
"Hey, see if the front's unlocked. If it ain't, take this," he said, walking over and handing her the crowbar from his backpack.
"It'll work as a slim-jim if you're careful. You know- stick it in the crack between the window and door, raise the latch? Kinda hard, given how fat the thing is, won't work on most cars. Vans, though, vans might work."
She took the crowbar from him, looking hesitantly between it and the van window, hoping she wasn't going to have to use it. Unfortunately, however, the door was locked.
She contemplated for a moment trying to actually slip it through the tiny, tiny crack in the window, and then decided to do it the way that made sense. "Bee, back up," she said to her dog, pointing toward Mike. The australian shepherd padded over to Mike, but kept watching Haven. Once she'd decided that Bee was safely out of the way, she scrunched up, turned away, and smashed the window open.
Amazingly, there wasn't an alarm. Haven tried to stop herself from trying to calculate those odds. It'd been somewhat foolish, yes, but at had worked.
She reached through the broken window and unlocked the door, then started looking around for a key, or a door release, or something. She quickly realied that was unnecessary, however, as she could easily get into the back from there. She glanced around, making sure that nothing was going to suddenly jump out at her, before she started looking through boxes to find a suitable tube. Eventually, she opened the back door, holding one up.
"This should work, we just need a car to siphon gas from, and something to put it in."
"Well that should be easy. You know how many of these people kept spare fuel tanks when the shit hit the fan?" Michael asked, rolling his eyes yet smirking at the same time. He was glad she had gotten his implied action of smashing the window. He was also glad that the van's battery had evidently died. Next time he had to remember to open the hood and disconnect that first to be safe.
He strolled over to another truck, this one covered in blood inside the cabin. The windows were impossible to look through, but if you listened you could hear the slow rasping of a nearly frozen walker trying to escape. Michael, however, didn't listen. He just looked over the back and pulled out a hefty gas tank. Naturally, it was empty. Someone had used it to refuel their own car and escaped, or maybe the guy had never made it to a working gas station.
"Now we just need to pick a good car with gas in it. Let's stick together, alright? I've seen enough horror movies to know this is the part where everything goes horribly wrong. And I'd also like my crowbar back, Smashy has gotten me through two years alone." He walked back to the truck, holding out his hand.
Haven looked at him, smirking. "I mean, I guess that's a decent name for a crowbar. Here." She handed him the crowbar, and then pointed at the gas can. "That's lucky. Anything in it?" She shrugged. "Can't imagine we'd be that lucky. Do you know how to tell if a car has gas without starting it up? I feel like if I try to siphon out of an empty tank I'll only end up breathing in gasoline."
"Yes, Smashy," he laughed, stuffing it back into the pocket from whence it came. He banged the fuel can against his leg, shaking his head. "Nah. It's empty. Guy was probably trying to fill it at the next gas station and never made it. The pumps went dry within days...guess when all your drivers are stopping for brains at Taco Bell, it makes it hard to move gas."
He shrugged, ambling towards the closest car, a small sedan with the tires popped. One of them was missing, leaving just an empty well instead.
"And, no, not really. I don't know if there IS a way. Although, I guess if we popped the gas lid on one of these things and shook the car a little, we'd hear it sloshing around still. Might, uh, spare your lungs a little." He grinned at her, then took his crowbar out again and jammed it into the car's fuel cap. A quick wrench and it tore open.
He paused, one hand on the car.
"Uh. So...I'm not what you call a macho man? Mind giving a hand moving the thing? I'll drive in exchange!"
Haven rolled her eyes. "You were driving anyway, I've never driven in my life and I'm not about to start now." She got on the other side of the car, double-checked for biters behind her, and then braced herself against the car, ready to push. "Just make sure you listen for the gas, and push with me, not against me. Toward you first."
"I'm listening, I'm listening!" he said reassuringly. "Now, on three. One...two....three!"
He started pulling the car as she pushed it, and then they alternated. Slowly the car began to rock on its remaining wheels, Michael straining his ears. It took a few minutes of work, but Michael suddenly stopped.
"I think I heard something in the tank, yeah," he whispered. "But we gotta be careful now. This is the exact moment, where we're about to be able to leave, when things go to shit!"
Haven rolled her eyes. "There's no reason we're in any more danger right now than we ever are. Just keep watch, alright? I should be able to do this. Bee, watch him." She pointed at Mike, and her dog turned her attention to him momentarily before going back to watching her handler. She took the gas cannister from him and placed it on the ground, then began to feed the tube into the gas tank. She had the feeling that gravity would do most of the work, and all she'd have to do would be get it started. So, apprehensively, she placed her mouth around the end of the tube and started trying to siphon the gas. It was only a moment before she started to panic a little, and quickly transferred the end of the tube into the gas can, but it actually seemed to work! What looked like a few gallons of gas poured out of the car.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Still. This much luck can't last too long! I'm an optimist but come on, the universe doesn't do us too many favors anymore." He tapped his foot anxiously, checking around them to make sure nothing was creeping up on them. No other survivors, no bandits, no walkers. It was weird, and it was getting to him. If there was danger he could see, that was one thing. Nothing visible disturbed him.
"How much longer?" he asked Haven."I could get started try to get the car in front of it out of the way. We'll have to push through the guard rail, but three years of rain means they probably aren't too tough anymore."
"Might as well get started now, this tank definitely isn't full." Haven said, listening to see if she could hear how strong the gas flow was. It wasn't like she was an expert on siphoning gas, after all. "Once this is done I'll fill up the truck and then come help you out. I'd rather not stay still for too long."
The gas can filled up quickly after that, and true to her word she lugged it over to the truck and started filling up the tank. She tried her best to minimize the spill, even if she did get some on her shoes. Dammit, she usually had a very precise hand. Then she tossed the can in the bed of the truck and headed over to check on Mike's progress. "That should get us a little while, anyway."
Michael nodded, heading over to the cars in front of the truck. He really just needed to give the truck a little wiggle room. He checked the car sitting in front of it for biters. He checked a second time just to be safe. He also checked under the car too, being unpleasantly rewarded with the sight of a decaying walker reaching towards him. He quickly stabbed its rotten skull and put it out of its misery.
He stood up and opened the car, putting it into neutral. He started pushing and shoving the car, and in turn it started to slowly roll a little bit forwards. Well. This was gonna take a while.
He looked back at Haven.
"You wanna get the other car next to the truck? We need enough room to move it so that the bed doesn't get stuck on something. Or screech so loudly on metal a herd starts chasing us for miles. They totally do that, by the way. I've seen them destroy whole neighborhoods because someone fired a shot at the wrong time!"
Working together, they slowly moved the cars out of the way until the truck mostly had enough room to ram through the guard rails around the highway. Or at least slowly push against it. Michael jogged over to the driver's seat and opened the door, then paused. "You or Bee gonna need help gettin' in here?" he asked.
Last Edit: Jan 28, 2016 23:30:00 GMT -5 by Deleted
Haven shook her head, gesturing for Bee to head toward the truck as she made one last check over the trunk of the car she'd just moved, making sure there wasn't anything useful hiding in there. She didn't find anything.
"C'mon, Bee, time to go for a ride!" She enthused, trying to keep her voice down despite sounding excited. Bee wagged her tail rapidly before running and jumping up into the truck, crashing into Mike in the process. Haven couldn't help but smile. "Alright, pretty girl, get in the back and leave some room for me," she added before climbing into the passenger seat. From the tiny backseat, Bee leaned forward and lay her head on her handler's shoulder.
Haven scratched the dog behind the ears, and looked over at Mike as she pulled the door closed. "Alright, let's roll."
Shauna Kelly: That helped, thank you
Oct 4, 2021 14:40:44 GMT -5
Ayita Hunt: dang, January was my last post.. Jeez it's been a hot minute. o7 guys, sorry for the complete disappearance, life got.. a little interesting this year.
Oct 18, 2021 22:34:19 GMT -5