The engine spluttered and died, leaving the car to coast along silently until it gently rolled to a stop, the tires crunching on the gravel at the side of the road. The man driving angled it to ensure it was not left on the tarmac where another vehicle might crash into it. Not that they had seen anyone else on the road since fleeing the city some hours ago.
“Well that’s as far as this old girl will be taking us” he said, switching off the ignition.
The pair sat in silence for a moment staring out through the windshield at the dusty black ribbon that curled off into the distance. They were on foot again.
“Alright” said the younger man in the passenger seat, “Let’s get off the road.” As he turned to open the door and exit the car, his knee bumped the glove box, knocking it open.
Inside, as if just waiting to be picked up, was a handgun, some silver and a wad of cash.
“You keep the gun” said his father. ”I’ll take the silver and the cash.”
“Why don’t you take the gun?” asked the son.
“Because I don’t want it going off and shooting me in the arse” replied the old man as he stepped out of the vehicle.
“Huh” responded the son. “But you’re happy for it to go off and shoot me in the arse.”
“Well if someone is going to get shot in the arse, it might as well be you. At my age I need to sit down more than you do, so it stands to reason.”
Shaking his head and grinning despite himself, the son gathered up their little treasure, and stuffed the handgun into his pack. The silver and cash were duly handed over and he helped his father put his own pack on his back.
Then without looking back, they headed for the scrub just beyond the verge of the road and within a few steps, they were gone from sight.
The going was tough, with densely packed ferns and bracken blocking their way. Razor sharp leaves snagged on their clothing and eye stinging branches whipped at their faces. In no time both men were sweating and the deeper they went the worst they felt.
The son, leading the way, began scratching as the sweat itched the skin under his clothes. It seemed to be getting worse. He turned and looked back to see his father equally assailed by itching.
“That’s not right” he said quietly to himself. Stopping and bracing himself against a tree, he pulled up a sleeve and cursed. Several ticks seemed to be having a race to see who could get up his arm first. He brushed them off in disgust. But the itching on his back and chest continued.
Growling and slapping at his body he shouted to his father still some way behind. “We’re crawling with ticks dad. Head back to the road!”
The old man hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. He turned and led the way back to the abandoned car, greeting it like a long lost friend as soon as they made it out of the woods.
Both men dropped the packs and began striping off their clothes, shaking each item of clothing out before laying them on the bonnet of the car.
Blood spots marked points where the ticks had already fed. Small lumps were ticks still in the process of feeding.
“If these are what I think they are we’re in deep crap” said the old man fearfully. “If these are GMO ticks with Limell then we’re already dead.”
“How do we know if these are GMO ticks or normal ticks?” asked the son, trying to suppress a shiver.
“Ask me tomorrow” grinned the old man.
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“So how do we get these ones off? I read somewhere if you heat the end of the they let go.” He rummaged around in his pack looking for a lighter.
“No” replied his father. “They used to think that, but it just makes them spit more crap into you.”
He motioned his son to turn around so he could examine his back.
“The best way is to scrape them off like a bee sting with your fingernail, like thusly.”
He presented his son with a bloodied tick on the end of his finger, before squishing it. The son shuddered, but remained still so his father could complete the eradication process.
Once they had determined that he was de-ticked, they swapped roles until all the ticks had been removed.
“Ok, so it’s along the road then” said the son, shouldering his pack.
“It would appear that way” replied the father.
“After you dad” said the younger man courteously.
They started walking along the road at a measured pace, slowly eating up the miles, occasionally scratching every time they thought about the ticks.
Stories in this series
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 1 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 1 Round 2 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 2 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 2 Round 2 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 3 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 3 Round 2 - the Kiwi's story
Check out my stories here on Steemit
Running Deer
Running Deer - part 1
Running Deer - How legends are born
Charlie Rabbit
Meet Charlie Rabbit
Charlie tides up
Charlie Rabbit and Margery Mouse
Charlie Rabbit and Margery Mouse make music
Little Peppers Adventures
Runaway Rabbit and the hungry fox
Maybe and the land of purple rainbows – A Little Peppers adventure
How Pappa Pepper and Monster Truck the Pepper got their wild hogs - a Little Peppers Adeventure
Dark Angel Regiment of the Space Marines - Mission Files
First Squad Sniper Elite - Zaresith mission
Other stories
Also don't forget to check out my Dad's blog
Who else can tell you stories about impersonating an officer, stealing a military aircraft to go on a booze run, or steal military aircraft and go on an unsanctioned bombing run - and that's all before he turned 18!
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