8. following the trail.

Life here in the "house" has become routine to the point of boredom. We've played every board and card game here, and even began inventing new ones. What was once an entire bucket of tennis balls have dwindled to a handful thanks to our terrible habit of whacking them too hard and watching them bounce off the back porch and into the beings below. Food is still available, but rationing has had a lot to do with that. I am almost fitting comfortably into some of Jim's old clothes. As close as I can tell, I've lost about 80 lbs, and am still considered over weight... Looking on the bright side, I guess. Anyway...

After we let Mel go, Tim and I made our way back to the fire station safetly. Since we had to walk, we did encounter a few more lost souls, but our anger at losing another survivor helped us make short work of them.

It was very quiet at the fire station. With the exception of a few zombies who were entangled in fences or impaled on various pointed fences, it seemed the majority of them had gone over the falls.
It was at this moment I was able to clearly see my mission.

I gathered a few things (plastic bag with some road flairs, a can of spray paint, some granola bars, two cans of Coke Zero, three cans of Diet 7-Up and a fire axe. The axe really didn't fit in the bag, but you understand.) I informed Tim I was taking the Fire Engine with or without him, and he was welcome to come along, but he could not stop me.

My family was out there without me. The fire engine was the only working vehicle in the area. I would have to take it.

Tim said "Well, I ain't gonna stop ya, but I sure as hell ain't going on no wild goose-chase."

"Fine, suit yourself. Thanks for understanding." I said.

Tim continued "You're the one who needs to understand. They're dead. You go out in that, you're gonna get dead, too. Don't wanna have to be the one to break it to ya, but look around."

I paused. The silence was eerie after the constant moaning and scraping we heard earlier in the station. After a moment, I remember moving toward the truck to climb in. I stopped short and turned back to Tim and said:

"What makes you think no one else could do what we did? Why are you so quick to give up?"

Tim thought for a second, coughed and spit on the floor near the drain. "What makes you think I gave up? I just gave up on anyone else. I just lost my best friend. Sure, he was a selfish sunovabitch and get could't tell a joke to save his life, but he was good man. Closer than a brother. Everyone else is dead. I ain't leavin'. If help is out there, I'll wait fer it to come to me."

"I am NOT waiting for help. I am going to BE the help for my family. Thanks again, Tim, for everything. Good luck."

I climbed into the cab of the fire engine, cranked the key and strapped in, revved the motor and proceeded to back into the rear wall.

"It's 'D' fer Drive, there, genius. Good Luck!" Tim spouted before he turned and went into the office and shut the door.

"Well, okay then." I thought, and eased the big rig into the street and after my family, ignoring the poping and squirting of the former friends I had to use as a road to escape.