We're Still Alive(Book1)BEING REWRITTEN

Twenty

Georgia

          Gavin watched the fields and pastures pass by. There was a lot of people with horses in Georgia, so anytime they passed a farm or ranch, the horses would try to run alongside the car. They weren't running for their lives, and they didn't run to get help. They just ran because they liked it. Because they were free to. With most of the pasture fences broken by car accidents or misguided zombies...he shivered at the word...the horses had all the freedom they needed. Most of the animals did. But Gavin didn't feel free. He felt trapped. He was trapped by his thoughts, his confusion, his fear and worry. It was overwhelming.

          He'd fallen asleep while Martine drove, so when he woke again, he wasn't sure where they were. It was a more rural area, but that didn't make Gavin feel any less scared when the car sputtered and slowed down.  

          He looked at Martine, who replied quickly. "Gas is empty. I'll refill it."

          "I'll keep watch." Gavin picked up his gun as he said it and got out of the car behind Martine. He waited impatiently, pacing slightly, as Martine filled the car. Tall grass lined the road, ending at a ditch which acted as a border to a field of tall corn stalks. The only building in sight was a farmhouse about half a mile behind them, and there were no zombies in sight. When Martine was finally done, Gavin didn't bother hiding the look of relief on his face. "Let's go." He practically skipped to the passenger side of the car, then stopped suddenly. Martine noticed and looked at Gavin, whose grip on the gun had tightened.
          "What?"
          "You didn't hear that?" Gavin asked as he slowly turned around to face the field of crops. The corn stalks looked like they were at their tallest. Definitely tall enough to hide a person. Or something else. He crept closer, pulling the gun up to his shoulder. He laid his finger in front of the trigger, ready to pull it at any given moment. It took all he had to avoid pulling the trigger when the figure stepped out and into view. He lowered the gun and almost laughed at his paranoia. It was a dog, a border collie by the looks of it. It barked and ran up to him, licking at his face when it was close enough.
          "Hey, bud, what are you doing out here alone?" He asked, scratching behind its ears. Martine, who had turned his attention to Gavin and the dog, laughed.
         "Careful Gavin, it might tear your face off!" He called. "Does it
have a name?"
          Gavin checked the dog's name tag and frowned. "Yeah. Buddy." This had Martine laughing again.
   "I never knew you were a psychic."
          "Lucky guess." Gavin shrugged. "Are you done there? We need to get going."

       "What about the dog?"

       Buddy was standing on his hind legs with his front paws on Gavin's chest. "Might as well take him with us."

          They drove on for days. They were able to find more gas cans and siphoned some from abandoned cars. They tried to stop as little as they could. The car was moving almost constantly. One person would drive for four hours while the other got a rest, then they would switch out. They had to stop a few times for bathroom breaks and to get dog food for Buddy.  They didn't see a lot of the zombies, at least not as many as Gavin thought they would. Most of the ones they did see  were eating some poor victim or running at the car, but they never caught it, although some did leave stains when they bounced off of the side. They came across a roadblock once, but when they tried to move the vehicles out of the way, they were chased back to the car. After that, they decided to just drive around, going through yards and whatever else they had to. They even had to drive through a couple of stores. That was the highlight of their days, crashing through some abandoned store without any consequence.
          Gavin leaned his head back on the headrest. They were somewhere in Tennessee, he knew that much. Martine was asleep. Bud was rolling around in the back seat, kicking Gavin in the back of the head every once in a while. He glared back at the dog but didn't say anything. It had only been a few days, and he was already feeling drained. It was just drive, sleep, rest, switch, drive, sleep, rest, switch. It was driving him crazy.
           It was quiet aside from the occasional growl outside. That's why Gavin jumped and almost ran them off the road when he heard it. He fought to gain control of the car while the wheels squealed on the concrete.
          "Dude, what the hell!?" Martine yelled, holding a hand up to his head. Bud yelped in surprise as he rolled off of the seat.
          "Shh." Gavin leaned in to the radio and listened.
          "I don't hear anything." Martine muttered after a few seconds. "Wake me when you do. Try not to give me a concussion this time pór favor."  He stressed the last part. Gavin didn't answer, he was so concentrated on the radio. Then he heard it again. Martine lifted his head off the window and looked at the radio. There was a third crackling sound, then a voice. It wasn't clear, so they could only hear bits and pieces of what the person was saying.
          "Help...dead...too late..." The voice said. It sounded like a woman, but it was hard to tell. Gavin sped forward, hoping to get a better reception. Finally the voice became clear. It was a woman talking. "If anyone is out there, please help. They're dead, they got 'em, but we got away. They followed us though, they're trying to get in..." as if on cue, Gavin heard a thump from the radio and the woman gave a small yelp. "Please, we're at the radio station, please help." More crackling.
          "At least we know others survived..." Gavin said, breaking the awkward silence that started to form. He didn't know what else to say about what they'd just heard.
          "Yeah, it'd be nice if we knew where they were. Do you have any idea where the radio station is?"
          "Well its gotta be close by. If we just keep going, maybe we can find it."
          "If they're not dead by then." Martine said as he set a shotgun on his lap; there was a bitterness to his voice. Gavin remembered how his friends had been killed because of these things. Isaac had been, too. He should be just as mad, just as eager to get back at them. The more  he thought about it, the angrier he got. These things had killed his best friend...or they may as well have...and he wanted them to pay for it. He was almost excited at the thought of having a group of those things to shoot into. 
          "Let's go find the radio station then."