Forget The Zombies (Book 2): Forget Texas by R.J. Spears Page B

good.”
I refrained from throwing my sandwich out the window.
     
For the record, let me just say that Texas is one big-ass state. It felt like we had been on the road for months. The terrain did seem to change as we moved further north as the dry scrub of the backcountry slowly transitioned over to gentle rolling hills and green farmland reminding me of the central plains.
The only upside on our long trek was the fact that there were very few other cars on the road and also very few zombies. We saw the undead only occasionally shambling along in the fields or lying dead beside the road. It was reassuring to some degree. Maybe they were being contained to the southern part of the state and the ones we had encountered were just random sightings?
Other than stopping for pee breaks, we made good time as we headed north. The sound of the tires on the road gave off a constant and monotonous hum that was almost hypnotizing, and I dozed off several times.
I finally felt guilty enough to ask Joni is she wanted me to drive.
“No, I’m okay,” she said.
“Sure?” I asked again.
“Sure. I like driving,” she said. “Otherwise, I get car sick.”
“Really?” I said.
“Don’t say it like I’m some sort of freak.”
“Sorry,” I said. So much for the honeymoon.
Traffic did pick up the closer we got to the border though as we fell in among more and more cars. Many of them were filled with families and all their possessions. Most of the drivers and passengers had nervous looks on their faces. I did notice the near total lack of any authorities, either police, state patrol, or military.
“Does this thing have a radio?” I asked.
“You can look for yourself,” she said. “It’s probably right there,” she said pointing to the dashboard area.
I looked and discovered a neat bullet hole sitting right in the center of the radio. It had to be a product of Bill’s gun. He had not only killed Mack, but had also killed our chance of getting any news from the outside world. We had no idea what was going on out there. There could be tornados, earthquakes, and, hell, a zombie apocalypse going on and we’d be none the wiser. Maybe ignorance was bliss, but I didn’t have to like bliss.
The further we traveled, the more cars we encountered and where we had been moving along at a good clip, we slowed considerably. After ten more miles, we entered traffic congestion as the cars started stacking up in an orderly line. It seemed like a lot of people had the same idea we did, which was to get the hell out of Texas. I had no idea how far we were from the Texas-Oklahoma border, but it had to be close if the line of cars in front of us meant anything. We finally came to a complete stop south of a little town of Ringgold which really wasn’t much of a town but more of a bump on the map.
After about a half of an hour I stepped out onto the truck’s running board and looked down the road. The view wasn’t too encouraging.
“What do you see?” Randell asked, sticking his head through the canvas and into the cab.
“Cars as far as the eye can see,” I said. It was so bad that there was no southbound lane as all cars were heading north on both sides of the highway. It seemed like the population of Texas was dropping dramatically in this exodus.
“We moving anytime soon?” he asked.
“Not that I can tell,” I said. People were outside their cars milling about, talking and trying to get a better idea of what was going on. I looked behind us and the line of cars seemed to now span for miles.
The gridlock lasted for hours with nothing do but watch the line of cars extending in front of us. The sun hung like a heat lamp in the sky slowly baking us which only increased both the tension and people’s frustration levels. Even with this, most cars stayed in place and tempers remained restrained. I just wondered how long that could last?
At the mid-afternoon point, a Humvee headed our way from the north bumping along off the side of the road,