February 10th, 2004
She’d been driving for about six straight hours when the dark slayer noticed that the gas meter was showing it was dangerously close to empty, and let out a low curse that she’d passed by a grouping of abandoned cars about four or five miles back up the road, and had not thought to stop and siphon more fuel if possible. The sign she’d passed on the outskirts of the last town she’d driven through said it was another hundred until she’d even make it to the San Francisco limits, and another few still to cross the more likely than not zombie infested city.
She pulled the SUV to a stop on the shoulder of the road, pulling the key out of the ignition and letting the engine die, then sat in the driver’s seat silently for a few moments, staring out the front windshield at the empty road ahead, getting lost in thought.
She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to follow the advice on the piece of paper left by god-knew-who, it almost seemed as if she’d been influenced by some outside power that was making her decision for her, manipulating her into following the instructions.
She was fairly certain by this point that whomever it had been to leave her the note, had been there while she was rooting through the bathroom of that house she’d broken into for supplies, but didn’t understand how she’d not been able to sense them, with all the zombies in the vicinity, she should have been able. Maybe it was that she was too out of practice.
She pondered these things a few moments longer, then shook them off as she remembered how dangerous it was to remain out in the open for too long, then quickly grabbed one of the spare duffel bags she’d found in a pickup truck about fifty miles back when she’d stopped to gun down a trio of walkers that were munching on an overturned cow in the middle of the road. The dying cow followed it’s killers, the agonized cries coming from the butchered animal drawing Faith to shoot it in the head with one of her glocks, effectively putting it out of its misery.
(Note: Apologies to the Hindus.)
She then grabbed the shotgun and one of the glocks before disembarking from the SUV and locking it behind her, with the hope that if anyone alive passed by, that they would leave her supplies alone.
She kept herself half-concealed from the road, walking a few feet into the tree line and then beginning the trek back to the last grouping of cars. About forty minutes later, she finally reached her destination, thankful that she’d not had to waste any ammunition due to the seeming lack of zombies in the area.
She stopped herself just as she was about to step out up onto the shoulder of the road, drawing back and ducking behind a thick tree as a walker that looked like it had once been a professional wrestler ambled into view, emerging from behind a van.
Faith waited a couple seconds and then peeked out around the tree. She lets a feral grin slide onto her face as she sees that the zombie has its back to her now as it stumbles around the small maze of cars parked there.
Not wanting to attract attention to herself by having to fire at the zombie, she adjusted her hold on the shotgun to wield it like a baseball bat, as she slowly crept up behind the zombie, keeping low and half ducking behind the cars to stay out of view.
She finally came within reasonable striking distance of the walker, lunged out from the car she was half hidden behind, and swung the barrel of the shotgun with all her might, connecting with the back of the dead man’s skull solidly.
She hears a wet crunch and stands there for a moment, watching as the body pitches forward, impacting the pavement with a thump that echoes slightly amongst the abandoned cars. Once she’s satisfied that the zombie isn’t getting back up, she turns and takes a quick look around, wanting to make sure there weren’t any more of them milling about, just out of sight.
As she finishes up her brief check of her surroundings, her gaze falls upon another pickup, on the far end of the grouping, and the red plastic gas can that is visible to her eyes, lying on the floor of the truck bed.
She strides over to the truck, eager to claim her prize as she’d not previously thought on how she was going to get gas back to the SUV in the first place, and this would solve her problem quite efficiently.
“Now I only need to find a tube and pray that one of these rust buckets have fuel.” She mutters to herself, as she glanced around the rest of the truck bed, but finding it to be sparse. She moves onto the cab of the truck, not having much luck there either, but finding a hunting knife under the passenger seat that she quickly wrapped in a shirt that had been laying on the seat, and tucked the newfound weapon slash tool into her waistband.
She moved onto the next car, an old Chevette that even the walkers could probably out run, and has better luck.
Chuckling to herself as she used the knife to cut the tubing from the hookah she found half buried in the back seat, she hoped that the four and a half foot length would be enough to filter the gas.
Deciding to find out sooner than later, she grabbed the plastic container from the back of the truck and undid the cover of the gas tank that was to the back of the truck.
She quickly stuffed the tubing down into the pipe, pleased when her slayer hearing picked up on the small splash the tubing made when it hit the surface of the gasoline, with a foot and a half to spare.
She pushed the tubing in another four inches and then sucked on the opposite end of it, spitting out the gas that shot into her mouth with a disgusted look on her face, before quickly stuffing the end into the hole atop the container.
About four minutes later the tank runs dry and she moves on to repeat the process with the chevette, and three further cars after that until the portable tank has reached it’s capacity, and she screws the cap back on top.
Faith takes another look around the area, checking again for danger and then retraces her steps through the small maze, heading out and back into the woods to begin the trek back, slightly slower now that she’s encumbered with the extra weight of the gas can, which she doubted she’d even be able to lift properly had she not had her slayer gifts, at least not so soon after coming out of a coma.
Which reminded her once more to her chagrin that she still had no damn clue as to how much time had passed before she’d awoken and she picked up her pace, determined to get back to the SUV and make haste to Alcatraz.
Maybe, just maybe she’d get answers from whoever it was that was there.
End Chapter Three