Simpson - Zombie Road (Book 7): Tragedies In Time

Zombie Road VII

Tragedies in Time

Book 7 in the Zombie Road series

This is a work of fiction by

David A. Simpson

ISBN: 9781691723546

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No portion of this text may be copied or duplicated without author or publisher written permission, with the exception of use in reviews

Copyright 2019 David A. Simpson

All rights reserved

Zombie Road VII

Tragedies in Time

A two-fisted trucker tale

Cover design by Dean Samed

Dedicated to my dearest partner in life:

The nitpicky, OCD, grammar-Nazi, Robin.

Im sure the ending of book six threw you for a loop. I can imagine everyone scratching their heads and thinking Simpson must have drank too much trucker speed or something. Where did that come from?

It came from the beginning. The first pages of the first book when Jessie said its kind of hard to separate the legend from fact after all these years. I cant tell the difference in what was real and what I remember as real sometimes.

He also said Its all true but some of it may not have happened.

He failed to add in this timeline.

The recording crew wasnt ready for that kind of truth.

This book addresses that timeline issue.

I hope you like it, hope I didnt make too many mistakes and hope it all makes sense when you reach the end. See you in a few hundred pages

T he weird Scarlet looking thing, he didnt know what she was really, had walked into the medical lab and then was gone. He followed after her because he had more questions. About a million of them. But like a wisp of smoke in the breeze, she wasnt there. He looked for other doors, maybe hidden doors, but couldnt find any. She had disappeared or turned invisible or maybe walked through the wall. He could see the real Scarlet still floated gently in her case, the healing fluids doing whatever they were doing to make her better. He was afraid to touch anything; afraid hed push the wrong button or something and hurt her. He couldnt understand any of the writing or patterns of the blinking lights. He finally went back out to the living area and picked up the bowl of stew or soup or whatever it was and tasted it. It was still warm, the perfect temperature actually, and didnt taste half bad. He realized how hungry he was and wondered how long it had been since hed last eaten anything. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he and Scarlet had nibbled on junk food and summer sausage driving across Minnesota. This place felt a long way away from there.

He explored the little house, tried every door and discovered a bathroom and an extra bedroom that was full of junk and clutter. A lot of it looked old and broken, and all of it looked foreign and strange. He didnt know what any of it did or was supposed to do. He couldnt get a couple of the doors to open no matter what he tried. They simply ignored all voice commands, hand waving or tugging on the handles. As aggravating as she was, he believed the weird Scarlet when she said the air would kill him. Shed said she was his protector and he believed that too. Even if she was annoying.

The medical room was clean and sterile. The main living room and kitchen were neat and organized, decorated tastefully and at odds with the other two rooms. They were messy and it appeared like no one had run a broom through them in a long time.

He opened every cupboard and discovered a refrigerator filled with strange looking plants, packages and different drinks in oddly shaped bottles. He picked an orange colored one and after a few moments of fumbling, figured out how to open it. It was tangy and sweet, maybe something from a mango family he decided. He went back to the bedroom, the decidedly messy room where he first woke up in this strange, new place. This was where the other Jessie had lived and slept. The desk was covered with notes and journals and scribbled formulas on scraps of paper. What impressed him the most was the equations that were written out and fully legible. Not because they were of some discipline of higher math that he didnt understand, but because it was all in his handwriting. He had done that calculus or trigonometry or whatever it was.

Him.

Jessie.

The guy who was barely passing basic algebra and didnt even have his multiplication tables memorized. He wondered what had happened, what the other Jessie had gone through to wind up living alone in some metal hobbit house with a girl that looked like Scarlet but could turn into smoke at the drop of a hat. He looked around, under the piles of clothes and the discarded bits of electronic equipment. He found more diaries, more journals and more notes. The other Jessie had kept a record.

He spent the rest of the day cleaning and organizing and was startled when the weird Scarlet told him dinner was ready. She was standing in the doorway of the extra storage room, looking at all he had done.

I was not permitted to touch anything in this room. she said. Otherwise it would not have been in such a state.

Looks like a teenager lived in here. Jessie said.

Scarlet smiled, the first emotion she had shown.

Perhaps one did. she said, maybe a little sadly.

How long have you known him? Jessie asked.

She said nothing, her smile dropped and she went back to her inscrutable ways. She said nothing else and he couldnt even get mad at her for acting like the Sphinx. He figured she was some kind of computer program. An extremely advanced one that was a cross between the T-1000 liquid Terminator and Metamorpho from the comic books. He understood what she was and it scared him a little. Nothing like her existed from where he came from. He had to be hundreds of years in the future but he couldnt think about that right now. The traveler had saved his life, saved Scarlets too, but he wasnt sure if it was worth it. Especially if he was trapped in this fancy prison forever. Everyone he knew was dead, long gone and long forgotten.

The other Jessie took a lot of notes. Jessie said, trying something besides asking her questions. Maybe he could get her to start talking.

Yes, he did. She agreed.

Well, theyre just taking up space. Im going to throw them all away. Is there a place I can burn them?

You cannot. she said and stood abruptly. They are not yours.

Yeah, but hes not coming back. He cant can he? He doesnt have a bracelet.