Zombie Soap 3: Revolution

One

Monica

The bullets stopped pinging against the truck some time ago. Abby, for all her grit and tough exterior, sat curled in the front seat, gasping and shaking with sobs as Diego sped over uneven roads. Taylor lay bleeding on the back seat, losing color in his cheeks by the second while Monica did her best to assess his condition with no light and almost no idea how to treat him. Her specialty rested firmly in medical science, not the application and certainly not field treatment.

After rifling through one of the bags, Monica found a tampon and quickly tore off the packaging. Then, she ripped the fabric around Taylor's shoulder and used the applicator to shove the absorbent cloth into the wound, making Taylor grimace. The gauze didn't go in all the way, but it stemmed the blood, increasing Taylor's chances for survival until Monica could figure out what else she needed to do.

"Diego, I don't suppose you received field training in your line of work?" she asked while snatching a shirt from the same bag and ripping it into cloth strips. Carefully, she created a bandage, wrapping it as best she could around his shoulder and armpit. "I have no clue how to save him."

"I know basic things, like CPR or keeping pressure on a wound, but only enough to wait for assistance." Diego's voice wavered as he focused on the road ahead in the pitch-black desert landscape. He'd turned off the headlights awhile ago in an attempt to shake their tail. However, it was what he didn't say that held the most meaning: he didn't know what to do either. Hospitals and help no longer existed; they were on their own.

Monica kissed Taylor's forehead before leaning back in her seat and closing her heavy eyes. There was nothing more she could do until they stopped, and finding disinfectants and anything else to treat him would be a stretch in this world. Anything valuable would have been looted weeks ago, and out here in the open, the Soapies could be anywhere.

"How close is the nearest town?" she asked after a moment of stuffing her panic into the back of her mind. She could fall apart later, but her priority now was to find shelter, medicine, and hopefully clean water. Their provisions would last a few days at best, leaving them no choice but to scavenge if Taylor had any hope of surviving the next few days.

Diego gently touched Abby's shoulder, and she jumped. Removing his hand, he said, "There's a map here in the center console. Do you know how to read one?"

Paper rustled as it unfolded while the seat shifted and squeaked under Abby's weight. "I mean, I guess? It's not too different from my phone, right?"

Oh, lord, they were in trouble. Even in the last unreachable generation where people still used land lines to call one another and wrote down numbers and addresses on slips of paper, people didn't know how to read maps. But Zoomers? They couldn't properly identify a rotary phone or cassette player. A map wasn't far ahead in terms of recognizable things from the older times, and a GPS typically took care of the navigational guesswork.

If Diego felt the same sense of impending doom, he didn't show it. He remained patient as he explained the basics of map reading. "Okay, just look for the markings we made — you'll notice where we left here in Nevada, so just follow the route John traced for us to follow."

Abby unfolded the map and smoothed it over her lap. "Uh, Elko. It's out of the way though. The map has us following the smaller roads."

Monica's breath hitched. Wasn't Elko where Jayson's body had supposedly been found? Taylor said he'd been turned before the survivors killed him and burned the corpse. "Diego, I think that's where Jayson went."

Diego sighed. The cab was quiet except for the noise of the tires traveling over the uneven road.

"I'm not sure what other options we have," he said after a long pause, running a hand through hair that had grown and curled around the nape of his neck. "We could go forward on no supplies or try to find help. Either way, we aren't guaranteed to save Taylor's life, but the town's survivors might give us better odds."

"Or worse," Monica countered, wondering if Jayson had actually turned or if he'd been killed by looters. "We don't know if they're friendly."

Not to mention, every survival movie and show with an apocalypse didn't end well for women. If they weren't killed outright, they risked fates worse than death or becoming Soapies.

Diego clicked his tongue. "So it's us or Taylor."

The statement hung heavier than wet drapes. A choice needed to be made, and Monica didn't want to decide Taylor's fate over her own. "Please don't ask me to choose."

"It won't be easier," Diego said quietly with a sniff. "Humanity already sucked before this all went down. It will only get worse from here."

He wasn't wrong, but Monica resented him anyway for managing to compartmentalize something so terrible. She imagined he must have seen this on a daily basis when he'd been a cop in a world of humans without zombies. "I hate this."

Abby watched the exchange, quiet as a mouse until they paused and twisted in the seat. "I don't want him to die just because it means we'll be safe. We should help him if we can."

Monica blinked away tears. Abby was too young to experience such a cruel world. Her compassion was a priceless, beautiful thing, and Monica feared what their harsh reality would do to such a sweet girl.

Clearing his throat and accelerating the vehicle, Diego spoke with an assured confidence Monica hadn't felt in weeks. "Okay. I guess we're going to Elko. Be prepared for anything though; if these people are unfriendly, we're booking it out of there, regardless of Taylor's situation." His voice cracked and he sucked in a deep breath. "We can't risk the safety of the entire group."

Monica leaned forward to touch his arm. "Thank you."