Bowser said. “Hell no, man. You’ve gotta be kidding.” “You got a better idea,” Robinson snapped back. “Go ahead, spit it out.” The narrow road we’d been traveling north down curved to the east and ran alongside a major highway. The last and final highway we needed to cross in order to reach Dixon looked to be the largest we had come upon yet. It was six lanes wide, all clogged with bumper-to-bumper traffic. A huge number of zombies, larger than the horde back on Claiborne, trudged westward, weaving in and out of the parked cars. With no way to cross in the SUV, or by foot, we turned around and went back to where the narrow road had curved to the right. And it was there that we now stood on the side of the road, huddled around the outside of the SUV, looking into the drainage ditch and considering Robinson’s suggestion. I stared into the swampy-looking water, speechless. This was not what I had expected.
What do You think about Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord?
