I was screaming to the heavens; anger, pride and satisfaction were warring with each other to become the dominate feeling. I turned and walked a few steps back towards the cavern opening, then fell to my knees. John raced past me and then came running back he hastily put my cap back on, making sure not to snap my face with the rubber band.

"He's gone," Tomas said. He was trying to stand back up having gone down after the scream. It had taken him a moment to realize who or what had shredded through his mind.

"Not for good I think," Eliza said as she watched her brother struggling to get back up.

"Is that not reason enough to stay away and let him have his corner of the world, Eliza?" Tomas said as he finally got to his feet. He was shaking, but he felt st.u.r.dy enough.

"He grows stronger."

"He was dead. How is this possible?" Tomas asked his sister.

"What about that bulls.h.i.t you preach about no direct intervention?" Eliza yelled to the sky.

"Eliza?"

"Don't you dare, Tomas! This changes nothing. If anything, it makes our ultimate destination that much more important. You should have let him die on that roof. I would have honored the agreement I made, at least for a little while. His family would have been safe, maybe for a generation, their lives flash by so quickly anyway."

"Where's your poncho?" John asked me as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "You look like s.h.i.t, bad trip?" As he sat down next to me, he pulled a crisp white joint from somewhere. Even more impressive was the lighter. He lit it up and took a grand toke before handing it to me.

The birds chirped in the distance, a slight breeze blew from east to west across my body, the sun shone brightly upon my face, an ant walked across my size thirteen women's shoes. I grabbed the bone, looked at it for a moment, and took a big hit, bathing myself in its calming smoke.

"Thank you for that," I said to John as I exhaled.

"Nice mellow s.h.i.t, huh?" John asked with a smile as he took the marijuana cigarette back.

"That too," I told him as I let the buzz wash over my mind. "But I meant that." I pointed to the sliver-sized opening in the small mound directly in front of us.

"I don't know what you're talking about," John said as he took the rolled paper almost down to the halfway point.

I had a sneaking suspicion that he did, especially with the sideways smile he was wearing when he handed the joint back, but I guess that also could be attributed to the fact that we were now both stoned. What can I say, I'm a cheap date. We stayed there a while longer, me on my knees, John sitting Indian style (right, right, Native American style). Although I don't really know if it's still necessary to keep up with political correctness in this new age of man.

"Candy?" John asked as he split a peanut b.u.t.ter cup in two.

I ate it before he had even put his half in his mouth. "Rorry. Stress makes me hungry," I told him."

"Did you get the tickets?" he asked as he savored his half.

I shook my head.

"That's alright. Maybe we can catch them next time. We should head for the airport," he said as he arose, he extended a hand to help me up.

The events of the day had impaired me far worse than I had imagined. My legs began to instantly cramp and every sc.r.a.pe and bruise I had on my body was letting itself be known. We had twenty miles to traverse and I didn't think I could make it twenty yards; this was compounded with the fact that, because of the weed, I was even thinking slower.

"Man I'm tired," John said, echoing my thoughts. "Do you have a car?"

"Let's go see," I told him as we headed away from the motel that couldn't have been more than a quarter mile, then I realized we were still in a bit of a lurch. My 'broadcast' for the zombies to come to me had been reached by anything within a certain range and then I realized they weren't moving. I stopped to laugh, my gut started to hurt I was letting go so deeply. John had no idea why I was laughing, but he was not one to shy away from a good time, he joined in the merriment.

"What's so funny, man?" John asked as he started wiping tears away from his face.

It was a few more minutes before I could compose myself enough to speak. "You see the zombies...I mean funkies?"

"Yeah, man," he answered, looking over to the motel. "Hey, what's the matter with them? They look frozen."

I was laughing full tilt again. "They're not moving because I told them not to."

"They're very well behaved," he said in all seriousness.

"Don't you see, man? We didn't need to go through the d.a.m.ned cavern, Trip." John was looking at me strangely. "Forget it, it's over now. I hope I can forget it as quickly as you can. Let's go get your van."

"Oh yeah, I forgot that was here."

We headed back to the motel. I wanted to kill the zombies, but it somehow seemed cruel to kill something defenseless. I know, I know, that's an asinine thought; they wouldn't think twice if the roles were reversed. I also had John to think about. He had to check each and every one of the frozen b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out as we walked by. I know he wouldn't have approved of my slaughtering them, and what he thought mattered, even if he would have forgotten by dinner.

He kept waving his hands in front of their faces. The only thing that moved on the zombies was their eyes and it was unnerving. Their eyes followed us like those of paintings in a haunted mansion. There were at least twenty or thirty zombies in the parking lot all oriented towards where I had called them from. And at least another half dozen were inside the cabin having not yet found an exit by the time my 'stop' command had been issued. I had never before controlled so many zombies at once, I was unsure if it was something I would even be able to do again. The range of emotions I had been feeling when I did it would be difficult to match.

"They're like mannequins," John said, waving his hand dangerously close to one of the zombie's mouths.

"Maybe don't get so close," I told him.

"Are they playing some sort of game?"

"Not one that I want to play."

"Me neither," John said as he took one final glance behind him before getting into his van.

I don't know if to this very day you could go down to North Carolina and see those zombies standing there but they hadn't moved when I finally lost them in my rearview mirror.

"Want a beer?" John asked, reaching in to the backseat and opening the cooler.

"Sounds about perfect." I told him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

BT, Gary and Mrs. D Gary chanced a look back as Deneaux rocketed down the roadway. "I can't see BT!" he yelled in an attempt to get past the whipping of the wind.

"I haven't had this much fun in decades!" Mrs. Deneaux yelled back. "I guess I could use a cigarette, though." She opened the throttle up a little bit more. Gary looked over her shoulder and realized they were nearing a hundred and ten miles an hour. He gripped her bony waist a little bit tighter.

She laughed for a few moments and let the bike begin to coast down to a stop. BT was barely a dot on the horizon as Mrs. Deneaux was finishing her smoke.

"Aren't cigarettes just like potato chips?" Gary asked her.

"What?" she said as she ground the stub out under her heel.

"n.o.body can have just one."

"Miss your friend?" she asked as she effortlessly produced another smoke.

"I'll tell you what I don't miss."

She looked over at him.

"I don't miss going a hundred and ten miles per hour."

"You must have sucked your mama's t.e.e.t.s too long," she said as she took a puff from her cigarette.

"I was bottle fed," he replied, not able to think of anything else to say.

She 'hurumphed' and looked back to the open road that they needed to travel.

BT pulled up a few minutes later. He had a death grip on his handlebars and looked like a crash test dummy due to sitting so rigid in his seat.

"She's f.u.c.king nuts," Gary said to BT. "Please let me ride with you?"

"Did she almost crash?" BT asked, slowly getting off his bike.

Gary shook his head with a questioning look.

"I almost dumped twice. You're better off with her."

"She's trying to beat the speed of sound, BT."

"Is this love fest over?" Deneaux asked, throwing her b.u.t.t to the side of the road. "We've got a lot of miles to roll and it looks like we might get some weather."

"Can we maybe find something with four wheels?" Gary asked.

"And miss out on all this fun?" BT added as he rubbed blood back into his arms.

"We can find something for you two ladies, but I'm keeping this ride. Let's go, b.i.t.c.h," Mrs. Deneaux said to Gary.

"I don't really appreciate that," he said as he walked over towards her.

"It's just an expression." She smiled.

"Could you maybe at least keep me in sight this time?" BT asked as he reluctantly hopped back on his bike.

"I need gas," was her reply as she started the bike up.

"How far is Maine from here?" Gary asked.

"Gotta be close to seven hundred miles," BT told him. "And then another hundred and fifty or so to get to Ron's."

"At top speed we could make it in six and a half hours," Deneaux said, staring at Gary trying to gauge his reaction.

Gary had no desire to do the math and figure out how fast they would be traveling. He once again wrapped his arms around her waist, fearful he might break her in half, then he would be 'ghost' riding a 'murder cycle'. And that wouldn't do...not at all.

Somewhat true to her word, Deneaux kept her speed down to a semi-suicidal rate somewhere in the mid-seventies. BT was sort of keeping pace as he pushed his bike to a speed right outside his comfort zone of sixty.

"f.u.c.king old bat," he said as another bug slammed into the side of his face. "Who in their right mind would want to ride one of these things?" s.h.i.t Mike must have been a world cla.s.s rider. BT grinned at the thought. "I miss you, man," BT said, stealing a quick glance upwards. "I hope you made it there."

Deneaux would slow down as they approached cars on the side of the road, Gary checked out more than a few, looking for ones that weren't battle damaged or had gas and keys handy. It was the only thing keeping them from losing BT again.

"Stop stalling or I'll smoke while I'm riding," Deneaux threatened.

"I'm not stalling, I'm looking carefully," Gary told her.

"I see you repeatedly looking back for your boyfriend. He'll catch up. Come on, I think I see a traffic jam up ahead, I'm sure there'll be something that you two girly men will be able to use, maybe a mini-van or a Prius."

"Fine," Gary said reluctantly.

Within a few minutes they were up by a snarl of cars that was L.A. worthy.

"What happened?" Gary asked as he got slowly off the bike.

A snarky comment was on Deneaux's lips, but even she was lost in the devastation that was Route 22.

Even with the motorcycles it was going to be difficult to get around the carnage. Mrs. Deneaux brought the bike to halt at the outer-most edge of the debris field. She stood up to get a better view, shielding her eyes as she tried her best to see the end. She was not successful.

Gary got off the back; his legs were weak partly from Deneaux's excessive speed, but mostly from the devastation in front of them. "It must go for miles," he said flatly.

"I would think you'd be able to find a car that would suit your needs in there." Deneaux motioned with her hand as she grabbed a cigarette from her saddle bag.

"This doesn't affect you?" Gary asked incredulously.

"What? I'm smoking a cigarette aren't I?"

"These were people with hopes and dreams."

"What would you like me to say, Gary? I don't have any words of comfort for you, I didn't know them."

"And if you did?"

"Probably still wouldn't care." She took another drag. "You're going in there?" she asked as Gary stepped closer to the disaster.

"Yes."

"Then you might want to take your rifle off your back."

Gary's hands were trembling as he pulled on the sling to take the gun off his shoulder.