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"So what's going on? " asked Brooks as Randell pulled his greasy cap off the seat he'd saved for the younger man. "It looks like even the civilians aren't goin anywhere. "

"I thought it might be just another jacked rig. " the old man responded, almost in a whisper. "But I hear there's National Guard vehicles involved as well as the regular cops. There's no word yet on the squawk box which makes this anything but yer normal bottleneck. "

"Shit. " muttered Karl under his breath. A cute little girl in a green striped dress poured him some steaming hot coffee. "You want something to eat with that? " she asked in a bored voice.

"Just a ham sandwich, if ya can manage, sweetheart. " he responded absently. As she moved away to get his order, the younger man turned back to stare at the elder trucker. "You sure about the National Guard, Randell? "

"I got confirmation from both Ike Tanner and Lonesome George. " Harris returned with a slight grimace. "Two solid citizens as far as I'm concerned. They don't spook too easy. "

"Over fifteen years, man. " Brooks whispered in earnest concern. Even as his eyes wandered across the sea of faces behind them, he saw no panic, no real concern from any of them. "What are the chances we could be in some deep shit here? "

"You'd think we'd have something more ta go on. " complained the short driver. "You can't lock down the citizens' band, can you? "

As if they both had the same idea, Randell and Karl glanced at the great glass windows and the multiple entrances into the truck/bus stop. If the frightening thoughts became a reality, this was the last place one would want to be trapped in.

"I'll take that to go, honey. " Karl told the waitress as she returned with his sandwich. She rolled her eyes even as the two men wandered out into the parking lot.

Everything seemed normal, moderate traffic tearing along the Interstate, a few station wagons and RVs'; with screaming kids and seniors on vacation, filled their tanks. But beyond the tall lamps which gave pale yellow illumination to the long rows of pumps and the all purpose refreshment center, the contrasting shadows seemed even deeper.

"Come on to my rig. " Karl suggested to Randell. "Let's get someone on the horn who might give us a better idea what's going on. "

"Don't know about any tie-ups, friend. " the cool voice of a fella named Lady Killer; travelling toward Middletown, told Karl as Randell hunkered nearby. "But I did see some canvas tops headin south just past the Mason exit. Did seem in a bit of a hurry, now that ya mention it. "

"Thanks, Lady Killer. " Brook told him. "You have a safe trip now. "

The two had talked to several drivers, all around the beltway, for twenty minutes at least. Aside from a lot of smoke, there didn't seem to be any fire to hang it on.

"Well, I'm glad fer that. " chuckled Harris as he patted the tall man on his shoulder. "Can't tell ya how much you scared the shit outta me with that talk. "

As much as Karl still felt uncertainty in the face of his friends' denial, the evidence was not there for a full blown panic attack. On the outside he gave Harris a lop-sided grin. "Guess I was just bein an ole lady about this, huh? "

'Like you said, Fifteen years... " Lonesome Ranger remarked dryly.

Fifteen years since the second wave of reanimated corpses; mostly unburied dead, had risen from morgues and funeral homes to descend upon the living with a supernatural hunger. Longer than that when the first plague; seemingly spurred on by the return of a probe from space, brought loved ones back from the grave to attack family and friends.

But the first had burnt itself out after a few months of terror only to reappear in 1979, lasting almost a year before Health officals and gun-toting militia could contain it. After that, memory diminished somewhat, resurrection events occurring so infrequently as to show up only in the tabloid papers.

But those who'd lost loved ones, as Karl Brooks had lost a favorite uncle and cousin, remembered. The deeply religious, or deeply nuts; as the nonbelievers liked to call them, also kept vigil, forever at war with local authorities as they disposed of their dead; iron spike and mallet in hand.

"Hardly seems like anything but a nasty little nightmare now. " Randall remarked. "Wal, I think I need to get my rig moving. You do too if you want to get paid. "

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