Part 19 (1/2)
”What I know about Dallas, I know from Jerry.”
”What's in Dallas?”
”The bombs grew more than a jungle there.”
”How did he get out?”
”Luck.”
TWENTY-FIVE.
Dallas had always sweltered. Summer heat mixed with the reflective properties of concrete and drove temperatures to miserable degrees. Even at night, the heat did little to dissipate.
Since the world blew up, the concrete jungle of Big D had been consumed by an actual jungle and added humidity to the already uncomfortable atmosphere. Agent-filled warheads had mixed in unpredictable ways. The resulting compound had caused what little vegetation there was in the Metroplex to mutate and grow at accelerated rates.
Elevated roads had remained relatively clear of the growth. The Silver Lining bounced on the occasional vine but made its way over the surface with a lumbering ease.
Moving up 35 into the city, across Woodall Rodgers and down 45 would keep their path well above the undergrowth. Jerry quietly prayed that the trip would be uneventful, but his eyes darted constantly through the shattered windows of the cab.
Erica watched him grow less and less comfortable the further they moved up 35.
”What's wrong?”
”Nothing. Where's your rifle?”
”It's in the back.”
”Get it, would you?”
She stepped into the rear of the home, picked up her rifle and gave the three boys a look that spread her panic to them. She returned to the cabin.
”Here it is.”
”Keep it close. And get in the back.”
”What's out there? Why are you so nervous?”
”I'm not.”
”You can hardly sit still.”
”Just get in the back. And send Alex up here.”
She made no argument as she moved into the cabin and told the oldest boy to step up front.
He hesitated and looked to his siblings. They, too, had picked up on Jerry's nervous actions. Alex clutched a beaten hunting rifle for comfort, not defense. Austin had placed his bear head back on and gripped Chewy tight around the neck. Trent could hear him weeping.
Alex buried his own nerves and stood. He looked Trent in the eye, patted Austin on the bear head, and moved to the front.
”Yes, sir?”
”Alex, I need you to ride shotgun.”
”Yes, sir.” The teenager sat in the pa.s.senger seat.
”Alex.”
”Yes, sir?”
”Grab a shotgun.”
”Yes, sir.”
The coach swayed as he steered around rubble in the road. Alex was tossed back and forth as he struggled to get to the gun rack. He pulled a semiautomatic 12 gauge from the former TV mount and climbed back into the pa.s.senger seat.
Little traffic clogged the highways. Dallas had been one of the few cities to receive an evacuation notice during the apocalypse. Almost everyone complied. The joke in the wasteland was that everyone in the city had been waiting for a reason to get out of Dallas.
”Just keep it pointed through that hole in the window. And shoot at anything that moves.”
”What if it's a person?”
”Especially if it's a person.”
Alex's grip on the gun caused it to tremble. The clattering of the weapon's action drew Jerry's attention. He saw the fear in Alex's eyes. He wondered if his looked the same.
”It'll be okay, kid. We shouldn't have a problem with the highways.”
”Look out!”
Jerry turned back to the road and slammed on the brakes. Ahead, the road dipped to pa.s.s beneath the deck park that had been built across the highway shortly before the world blew up.
It had collapsed.
”Dammit.”
”What do we do now?”
There was an exit on his right that led downtown. Chest heaving, he struggled to calm his breathing. Fear soured his stomach. His arms didn't want to respond.
Down those roads were the memories of his rebirth into the ravaged world. Terrifying memories.