Dead Ahead Read Online Free PDF Page B

strong. Got to keep up hope! They sped down the tight road at a reasonable pace. Passing beautiful little thatched cottages with blood smeared walls. He didn’t want to go too fast as you never knew what was round the next corner. ‘Not too dissimilar to walking really’ he thought. ‘ You never know what’s round the next fucking corner.’
    “Nothing, just static.” He switched the radio off and looked over to him.
    Caleb slowed the pickup down to a standstill at the stop signs in the crossroads “What next?” Caleb said, pointing to the road.
    “We can’t go straight on, that’s just heading back the way we came. The sign says the left leads to the motorway which is jammed. So I guess its right,” he said pointing to the sign, towards Durdar and Dalston.
    “You’re getting good at this,” Caleb laughed as he swung the truck to the right and headed down the road. Still he didn’t get so much as a smile from the boy.
    They travelled the back roads for hours. Shying away from any signs of what might be a town. If any road took them close to what looked like a built up area they would U turn and find another way. It was slow going, very slow going.
    Caleb entertained himself with slicing the scythes through pretty much anything that wouldn’t break them off. His crowning glory was catching a husk on either side at the same time and landing one of their heads in the back of the truck.
    “Huh? Did you see that? Told you the scythes were a stroke of genius didn’t I?” He proclaimed proudly.
    “Very good Dad, but I’m not fucking popping that one!”
    “Oi! Watch your fucking mouth!” Caleb said frowning at the boy. The gobsmacked look on the boys face put Caleb into fits of laughter for about five minutes after that. During the five minutes of Caleb giggling his little head off the boy had discovered a road map in the glove box and was studying it. “Dad, we fucked up!” he said suddenly
    “What did I just tell you about that sort of language?” He chuckled “Wait. What do you mean ‘fucked up!’”
    “We’re headed east, ain’t we...?”
    “Yeah, far as I can tell,”
    “....and then north?”
    “Yup.”
    “Well there are only a few bridges as far as I can see that are headed up around Carlisle; and they all look a bit too close to the city for my liking!”
    “Shit! Let me have a look” Caleb sat the map on the steering wheel and slowed down. “Can you take the wheel for a min Bran?” the boy nodded and he slowed even further studying the map intently. “You’re right boy, by fuck you’re right! And them bridges are gonna be chocka with all the people who were trying to get out of Carlisle. We got to swing back around and go at it from the west. Fuck! We’ve lost most of the day.”
    He threw the map back to the boy and started punching the steering wheel “FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!” he took a couple of deep breaths, “Oh fucking well, when the world gives you shit you make shitcakes! See if you can work out where we are buddy; let’s spin this death trap around!”
    He performed a perfect thirty two point turn in the middle of the single carriageway and headed back down the road still muttering curses to him self. As they rounded a corner they piled through a small group of Husks who were tumbling out of a gap in the hedge on the left. The first fell under the wheels and another was sliced neatly in two by a scythe. The others, however, were bunched up and hit the truck square on in an explosion of rotting body parts. Limbs and heads went flying in all directions, sending a fountain of black blood soaring over the truck. The window washers took a ridiculous amount of time to clear the windscreen of blood and pieces of husk. Only to reveal a clabbered mess over the hood, chunks of mephitic meat clung to the bent up metal edges of the bonnet where the scythes had pushed them up.
    The boy looked to his father, “Yeah, a stroke of genius that was dad, a stroke of bloody