It had a Wal-Mart, a movie theater, a couple of motels, and a string of fast food restaurants and gas stations clustered around an exit ramp off IH-10. Its survival depended on the traffic flowing between San Antonio and Houston, and so the town had grown up in pretty much equal measure on both sides of the highway. “You don’t think it’s strange, crossing here?” “No. Why?” “Well, I’d kind of thought we’d cross somewhere...I don’t know...a little less developed. Why do you suppose this is the place?” “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve asked you that already, haven’t I?” “Yeah.” I looked around, trying to see what made this place such a favorite crossing spot. But I still didn’t get it. I didn’t see anything that popped out at me. We’d made the trip to Weimar in no time in our newly acquired pickup, and we’d even managed to find a good campsite that afforded a view of the town and the wall.
What do You think about The Crossing: A Zombie Novella?
