Un2Dead (Book One of the Un2Series)
Chapter Seventeen

Wit had just finished the best damn bowl of oatmeal he had ever eaten. He had really hoped to be able to make Granny pony up on her offer but found his bowl of gruel to be so incredibly tasty that he just had to pay the tab.

“If either of you boys need to powder your nose now would be the time. We need to get going.” Wit reached into his pocket for his wallet. ”Granny, that was the finest breakfast I have eaten in decades. What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing. It does this old girl’s heart good to see someone enjoy her cookin’. You just be sure to stop by again sometime with the family. I’d like to meet them.”

Granny patted Wit on the back. She paused a moment, leaving her hand at the base of Wit’s neck. She stared ahead into her thoughts.

Granny leaned in close to Wit’s ear and whispered “The earth and sea, the flame and skies, the venom swirls inside green eyes.” She gave his neck a little squeeze causing a shiver to run down his back. ”You three better saddle up. The sun will be up soon and it would be such a shame for Joey to turn all crispy.”

Wit and his posse convinced Granny to allow them to clear the table since she wouldn’t accept any payment for the food. They wiped down the booth and reset the silverware. The three paused at the door.

“Granny, you’ve been a wonderful host. I hope we get a chance to stop back soon.”

Wit opened his arms and Granny walked into his embrace.

As Wit turned around and bent down to put on his shoes, he felt a firm pat on his behind. He looked back to see Granny give him a wink. He blushed as the bell over the door signaled their exit. Gary busied himself positioning a blanket over the passenger seat while Wit and Joey setup the sun shroud in the bed of the El Camino.

“Those were a couple of great ladies,” Joey said as he secured the shroud to the bed floor. “I think I really connected with Ruby.”

“Ruby? Oh, you mean your dinner.” Wit smiled the kind of smile you smile when you are purposely being a jerk.

“Yep. That’s a dinner I could have the rest of my life. Just tear up the menu. Make her my ‘usual’.”

Joey climbed over the side of the truck and situated himself within the inner padding of the shroud. Wit checked along the seams to make sure there were no areas that light could possibly penetrate. Joey located the tab on the zipper and closed the outer shell so that only his face remained exposed.

“See ya later.” Joey disappeared with a zip. ”Take it easy on the potholes!” sounded from within the shroud.

Wit opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. He fastened his seatbelt, adjusted the rearview and driver’s-side mirror. He reached across Gary to check the passenger-side mirror. He happened to glance down at the floor and saw Gary’s clothes folded neatly in a pile. He turned to face Gary as he returned to the upright position. The only thing Gary was wearing was a seatbelt.

“What the . . .” Wit stammered.

“Do you like it? It is part of the Emperor’s New Clothing line.” Gary slid his elbow out the open window and rested his arm on the door. He raised his right knee and slouched into the seat a bit.

“Seriously?” Wit blocked the view with his hand.

Gary turned to Wit.” Dogs don’t wear clothes. Were you planning on pulling over to undress me at some point? I don’t think so.”

“Could you please put your leg down?”

Gary rolled his eyes and obliged.

“Thanks. Well, I know one thing for sure.” Wit stuck the key in the ignition and gave it a twist.

“What would that be?”

“I was being generous when I bought you the Magnums.”

“Shut up and drive!” Gary took a half-hearted swat at Wit. ”Besides, it’s cold outside.”

Wit pulled out of the parking spot and pointed the El Camino toward the highway. They rolled past the window where Granny and Ruby waved a goodbye. A bump rose and traveled back and forth across the surface of the sun shroud signaling Joey’s wave from inside.

“Did you find anything about that diner disturbing?” Gary pointed his thumb back over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there was Granny, the psychic wolf-slayer, and Little Red Waitress for starters.”

“I’m supposed to be alarmed by a couple of women who have some similar traits to storybook characters?”

“Ya think?”

“This, coming from a naked man who is waiting for the sun to turn him into a dog?”

“Point taken.”

Wit snaked his way back to the interstate through the countryside. The pastel aura of daybreak leaked through the canopy of leaves that covered the road. The dappled sunlight bounced off of Gary’s umber physique causing little tufts of black fur to erupt where ever the sun met skin. He resembled a molting Sasquatch. A break in the canopy allow the vehicle to be bathed in sunlight which immediately transformed Gary into a jet black canine worthy of being best in show. He stuck his head out the window and shook it in the breeze.

The eastern horizon lay ahead of them. Wit marveled at the subtle washes of color that pooled at the tip of the pavement in the distance. He wished Reese could see this. His heart skipped and a prickle of panic crossed his forehead.

“Shit! I never called to check in with Reese! She has got to be fuming.”

He struggled to retrieve his phone from his front pocket. He hit the key to wake his phone from sleep mode. Instead of a menu screen he saw a picture of an empty battery outline containing a small sliver of red near its base.

”Aw, man!”

Wit fumbled for the glove compartment. He blindly felt for his phone charger and realized he had left it in Reese’s car.

Gary dipped his head below seat level and retrieved one of his shoes. He set it next to Wit and barked.

“What am I supposed to do with your shoe?” Wit asked.

Gary nudged the shoe closer to Wit and barked again. Wit picked up the shoe and felt something move inside of it. He tipped the toe up and Gary’s phone slid to the heel.

“Thanks buddy.”

Wit tapped the screen over the “Contacts” icon and scrolled down the alphabet. Moments later Wit was leaving an apology on Reese’s voicemail. He closed the phone, dropped it back into the shoe and tossed it onto the pile of clothes in front of Gary.

“She didn’t pick up. I hope that means she’s busy and not that she’s ignoring me. Well, Gary, get yourself settled. We’ve got a long haul ahead of us. Hopefully by this time tomorrow we’ll know what’s happening to me.”

Morning traffic consisted mainly of a few long distance truckers and the occasional piece of slow moving farm equipment. Livestock-lined fences mimicked the contours of the winding pavement. The bright red barns and the fields of green vibrated against the crisp blue sky. Sunlight welcomed the patchwork of colors that nightfall turned to shades of grey. These colors had been all but forgotten to Wit. He hadn’t realized he missed them until now.

It was mid-morning when Wit noticed the gas gauge was leaning towards “E”. The El Camino was a great car for the short jaunts between home and the gym and required a fill-up about once a month. Its gas-guzzling engine was showing its true colors on this cross-country excursion. It was going to drink another couple of tanks by the time they reached the compound. They had passed a road sign a few miles back that touted food and lodging were up ahead. The next sign was covered with the logos of fast food restaurants and motels. A third sign sported a bright yellow seashell. Wit pulled onto the ramp and exited the highway.

The aging gas station served as the anchor to a cluster of other small businesses. A hardware store, a farm stand and a roach coach selling the “best food in a three-mile radius” bordered the square of asphalt that surrounded the gas pumps. Wit pulled up alongside the pump island far enough to align the gas cap with the pump labeled “premium”. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the old squatty, square pumps where the price rotated like slot machine fruit. A water-stained index card bearing the message ”Please multiply your total by four. Sorry for the inconvenience.” was held to the glass with brittle yellowed cellophane tape next to the new “We accept Visa and Master Card” decal. A chart resembling a multiplication table for the number four hung from a chain near the hose. Wit popped the door on the gas cap and filled the tank for ten pre-multiplication dollars. He leaned in through the window to talk to Gary.

“I’ll be back in a sec. Keep an eye on the luggage. I’ll bring you back some jerky.”

Gary wagged his tail. He would have typically given Wit a thumbs-up but currently lacked thumbs.

Wit half-sprinted to the door of the service station. When he got to the door a sign redirected him to the food truck. Once at the food truck another sign sent him toward the hardware store. He paused at the entrance expecting to see a sign sending him to the farm stand. A clerk behind the counter saw him through the window and waved him in.

“Sorry ‘bout the run around, mister. I’m minding everyone’s stores at the moment.”

“Why not direct everyone to come here?”

“’Cause watchin’ people run around the parking lot is more fun. That will be forty dollars for the gas. Anything else?”

Wit thought a moment. ”Do you carry car chargers for cell phones?”

“Yep. Aisle three.”

“I’ll be right back. Throw in a couple of those beef sticks.” Wit was down the aisle and back in no time, reading the back of the package as he walked. He continued reading as he handed his credit card to the clerk.

“That totals sixty-five and change. Want a bag?”

“Naw.” Wit scooped up the beef sticks along with his card and headed for the door. Once outside he stopped alongside a trash can to strip the charger free from its package. After a minor struggle with the plastic skin that encased the charger, Wit turned to head back to the truck. A glint of light caught his attention. Another vehicle had pulled in behind the El Camino. He raised his hand and used the beef sticks to shade his eyes allowing a better look at the other patron.

“Gary!” Wit yelped and ran as fast as he could across the lot.

Gary was in the bed of the truck, legs spread, positioned squarely over the top of the sun shroud. The fur across his shoulders bristled as he hunched, ready to pounce. Standing on the opposite side of the tailgate was a visibly nervous lawman with his gun drawn, pointed at Gary, only inches from the tip of his snout. Gary growled and curled his lips, bearing his teeth. The boy-in-blue tightened the grip on his pistol and released the safety. Gary slowly leaned forward, allowing the barrel of the pistol to slide into his mouth, never breaking eye contact with the officer. Wit arrived truck-side, his newly reanimated circulatory system at full tilt.

“Stop!”

“No!”

“Don’t!”

Single word sentences were all Wit was capable of uttering between gasps.

“Mister, it appears you have a dead body in the back of this truck. You are going to have a dead dog if you don’t gain control of him right now.” The trooper’s voice shook as much as his hands. He sounded like a Mayberry deputy.

“Let’s not do anything crazy, okay? Gary, get out of the truck. Spit out the nice man’s gun and come here by me.” Wit spoke slowly and deliberately.

A low growl resonated from Gary’s chest.

“How about this? You holster the pistol and we talk about what is definitely not a dead body in the bed of the truck. How does that sound?” Wit hoped the patrolman was a bit more rational than Gary.

Sweat dripped from beneath the brim of the navy blue cap and ran behind the mirrored sunglasses that held the reflection of a German Shepherd sucking on a pearl handled pistol. The officer removed one hand from his weapon and gripped the cap’s visor. He slid the cap back and wiped away the droplets with his equally sweaty forearm. A third arm appeared from behind him and shot up between the cop’s shoulder and neck, wrapping around the back of his head in a half-nelson. A quick thrust forward bent the patrolman in half, causing his head to bounce off of the edge of the tailgate. The pistol discharged as it slid from Gary’s mouth. The bullet whizzed between Wit and Gary, hitting a propane tank on the side of the roach coach halfway across the parking lot. The bullet pierced the corroded cylinder as easy as a straight pin enters a balloon. The results had much the similar effect. The metal skin blew into ragged airborne fragments that instantly found homes in surrounding vehicles and tree trunks. The explosion was immediately echoed by the coach’s erupting gas tank. The food truck leapt onto its grille and completed an automotive triple axel before crashing to its side. The force of the dual explosions knocked Wit onto his back, landing him alongside the unconscious cop, their faces almost touching one another. A purple welt was already forming just above the cop’s uni-brow. Wit soon saw that the purple welt was a mirror image of the crescent-shaped dent that interrupted the once crisp edge of the El Camino’s tailgate. A shadow fell across Wit as a hulking silhouette moved in front of him. Wit raised his arm to shield himself. He felt a huge yet soft hand grab him by the wrist and yank him to his feet.

“This is starting to become a habit.”

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