Badass Zombie Road Trip by Tonia Brown

seat as he stared down at the envelope. Five hours come and gone, and he had had the answer with him all along.
    “Jonah?” Dale asked. “Dude? You okay?”
    Jonah nodded without taking his eyes off of the cream-colored square before him. With trembling hands, he tore at the flap, opening the outer envelope and removing the contents hidden inside. Sure as sunshine, the living Dale had been right. A second envelope was tucked away inside the first, and written in the upper left-hand corner was the answer Jonah sought.
    ****

Chapter Seven
    Sacramento, California
    162 hours : 45 minutes : 15 seconds remaining
     
    Hosannas and hallelujahs!
    As it turned out, Dale’s dad didn’t live in distant San Francisco after all. Instead, he resided in the lovely city of Sacramento, which, after they double-checked Jonah’s map, they discovered was less than thirty miles from the very gas station at which they sat. At first it was as easy as jumping into the swift highway traffic, but once they hit the actual city, traffic slowed to a crawl. Jonah never liked big-city traffic. He regretted ever leaving the easygoing state of Idaho.
    Then there was the problem of Dale’s ever-increasing hunger. The jerky was a no-go on the appetite front. It didn’t even serve as an hors d’oeuvre. Over the course of thirty miles, Jonah stopped at fast food drive-throughs, a couple of restaurants, and even a grocery store or two, feeding the corpse everything from fries to chicken to well done hamburgers to raw beef, but nothing seemed to placate the beast of his belly. Jonah was beginning to worry that perhaps the movies were right, that the zombie required more traditional fare, as in—and he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud—human flesh. To make matters worse, the zombie’s stomach swelled with every bite, every chomp, every swallow. Neither knew if the undead body would eventually digest what it ate, or if it would just swell until it burst. The end result of neither option held much appeal.
    The hunger was a problem, a big problem, but one they could address after they found out where Dale’s soul was hidden. Soul first. Soul food later.
    Parking in Sacramento was more of a nightmare than traveling with a hungry zombie. The tiny Focus circled the apartment high-rise for almost twenty minutes before finally landing a space within reasonable walking distance. As Jonah brought the car to a stop, he glanced at his regular watch and flinched. It was later than he would have liked, but they couldn’t wait ‘til morning. This had to be done now. He only hoped Dale’s dad was home, and not out for the evening.
      “This is it,” Jonah said, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’m going to go get our answer.”
    “You mean we are,” Dale said, pushing several fast-food boxes to the floor as he undid his own belt.
    “I meant me. You are going to stay put.”
    “Hell no!” Dale shouted. “Not this time. I’m tired of waiting in the car like a damned dog.”
    Jonah closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He was afraid that this would happen. For the last three hours, he had been trying to think of a way to tell Dale that he didn’t really want to explain the whole undead thing to the man’s father. Asking where Dale’s soul could be found was one thing. But telling the man his kid was now a zombie? Jonah didn’t think he had it in him.
    “Dale,” Jonah started. “I don’t know if facing your dad right now is the best—”
    “Jonah,” Dale said over him. “Pal. Buddy. Dude. I know you are having a really hard time with this and everything, but I have been stuck in this fucking car for eight fucking hours. I’m dead, I’m horny and I’m stiff all over, and I’m still hungry as hell!” The zombie was seething now, foam gathering around his clenched teeth as he twisted the seatbelt strap between his fists. “If you don’t let me get out of this fucking matchbox and stretch my goddamned legs, I am