The Virus Within: Blood Moon (Book 3)

Chapter 17

"Hey, Jess. Check out the bridge coming up," Nicky said, peering through the open back window and the windshield. Daniel was already slowing down so we could cross it safely.

"Wow. I've never seen a bridge like this before. And look at the leaves - they haven't wilted much. This hasn't been here very long."

Now at a crawl, the truck edged onto branches that looked rather battered after so many vehicles had driven over them. It seemed sturdy, but if this thing started listing to the side, I was grabbing Jess and Nicky and jumping. It was only about a five-foot drop, but if the truck tumbled sideways, it could roll on top of them.

"It was built the other day," I said, listening to the branches and tree trunks creaking under the weight of the pickup truck.

Nicky immediately leaned her head over the side of the truck for a second look at the makeshift bridge. "Now that I see how the ends are broken, I'm fairly certain zombies built this oversized beaver dam." She eyed up the blackened remains of the old bridge, then looked at me. "Did they really set it on fire?"

"Yes," I replied shortly. "I've never had to rush like that in my life."

"Huh. They never mentioned setting it on fire."

"I can't imagine how worried I would have been if they had told us," Jess murmured.

Nicky sighed in relief once all four truck tires were on solid ground. "You get an A plus for a sturdy build. Just a B for design though. But if it helps, you're way ahead of the guy who designed the stairs in the secondary building. I'd be scared to know how he would have built it. It might have even gone in a circle."

I snorted. "You forgot the part where we built it in thirty minutes. You get to replace it next time."

She glanced back at it, then shook her head. "Nah. My skills lie more along the lines of blowing things up."

"So we've noticed." Anything else I might have said was interrupted by a popping sound as the truck jounced a bit, followed by the squelching of rubber rubbing against rubber.

I leaned over the side with a frown, fully expecting to see a flat tire. I wasn't disappointed. An impressive finger-long gash in the side of the tire had freed every smidgen of air inside.

"You've got a flat," I informed Daniel, although he was already slowing down again.

"Do we want to use the spare tire back here or the one secured under the truck?" Logan asked.

"Might as well use the one in the back," Daniel replied. "It's less work, and it'll give you more room."

Logan leaned over the jerrycans and began unfastening the straps securing the tire. When the truck came to a stop, I jumped out. The damage looked even worse as I got a better look at it.

"What did we hit?" I asked no one in particular as I followed our tracks back to where we had driven from the grass onto the road.

I kicked a few branches with wilted leaves aside – remnants of our bridge building – and followed our tracks back into the grass. My toe stubbed against something in the greenery, and I bent down to investigate.

My hands pulled the knee-high grass apart to reveal the steel base of a road sign. It ever so thoughtfully stuck six inches out of the ground with the ragged tip twisted to the side, poised for a perfect slashing strike at the side of a tire.

With a frown, I stomped on it several times until the end bent over and was buried in the ground. Now that it was no more than a speed bump, I went back to the truck to see if I could lend a hand.