by Mary Martel
I’m growing increasingly impatient with waiting, but I know it’s important. For one, I want to make sure she really is alone and doesn’t have someone else, or multiple people even, out there scrounging for food and whatnot that could return any day now. I needed to know what I'll be walking into when I make my approach to her hiding spot, and I don’t want to be surprised when other people show up.
I need to be smart, so I watch.
But, at some point, it has to end.
I’ll give her another week even though it might just kill me, then I'll make my approach. One more week of watching her, then she'll be mine.
Emerald
Irritated, I step around another stupid puddle the size of a freaking car and prowl down the street. I want to kick at it with my boot, but with the way things have been going for me lately I would have ended up with wet socks, and going back to the bookstore to dry them out is the last thing I want to do.
It had rained for days, and the entire time I had been stuck in that bookstore. The sound had drowned out any potential noises the fuck faces might have made, and I had spent the entire time on edge, barely able to sleep and feeling like I was going to come out of my skin.
The moment the storm ceased, I had practically sprinted out the door, I was so ready to get out of there. And I was pissed because the dark sky told me that I didn't have long to be out here before it started up again.
I turn the corner, hop across a much smaller puddle, and charge up the sidewalk. No way do I want to be out here after dark or when the storm starts dumping on the world again.
I climb up the rickety, metal staircase two steps at a time. My feet know just where to land to not hit a spot that will creak, and I practically race up them. The plastic water jugs tied to my bag, hanging off of my back, clatter against each other. Thankfully, the only noise to be heard.
I get to the top of the staircase and climb over the edge of the building, onto the roof.
A three-tiered metal railing runs along the entire square rooftop. There is a boarded over spot in the far right corner that covers up a set of stairs that goes down into the building. There used to be a pile of damaged, rotting furniture up here. I didn't like being up here amongst the trash that anything could be hiding behind so I'd pitched it over the side of the back of the building. I hadn't been the one who'd boarded over the doorway to the stairs, and I didn't give much thought to the person who had because they were more than likely dead and gone or were an animated corpse that held no pulse.
The only things that remains on the rooftop terrace now are water jugs that I lined up neatly against the cement walls below the metal railings. I could have had more of them if I'd wanted to put them in the middle of the rooftop or had spaced them out but chose not to. I didn't want them to be noticed by anyone or have them potentially be stolen since the rain water is my only water source these days.
I let my bag fall of my shoulders and drop it to the ground. The jugs clatter together, and I do a quick perimeter search around the building to make sure I’m still on my own before untying the jugs from the bag.
Undoing the caps from the empty jugs, I screw them onto the now full jugs. All I’ll be able to carry on my back to the bookstore is five of them. Tying the full ones to my bag, I put it back on. The weight immediately drags my shoulders down, and I can already feel my muscles burning under the strain. Usually, I wouldn't carry so many of them at one time, but I don't want to be caught in the rain, and that means I can’t afford to make more than one trip tonight. I am way too paranoid to leave this many full jugs up here for anyone to come upon and steal. I haven't seen a living person in forever and still the paranoia hovers over me like a dark shadow, just waiting for me to drop my guard and fuck up so that someone else can fuck me over.
Nuh uh, no freaking way did I come this far just to be caught with my pants down around my ankles and no clean underwear covering my ass.
Man, I would kill for a pair of brand new underwear and some socks with the tags still on them.
Get your head back in the game, Emerald, I chastise myself before swinging my legs over the metal railing and dropping down onto the little boxy landing before the stairs. This time they groan underneath me, and I pause, my heart beating so fast I can practically feel it in my throat.
The streets are empty. Dead, if you will. But the little hairs on the back of my neck prickle to life, standing up straight, and my skin tingles. I had felt this before, and it had led to me being cornered and ambushed by two men who wanted to hurt me. I'd been forced to defend myself, and, to this day, I had a hard time looking at myself in the mirror when I thought about what I'd done to them, their senseless deaths. So much death, so much waste, and for what? They could have let me be and gone about their own business, and they'd both still probably be breathing right now. I’m not stupid, I know what they'd wanted from me, and it had pissed me off because they'd been desperate enough to try and make a grab for me when they could have just sucked it up and played with each other.
The world has gone to shit, and everybody left alive turned into an asshole when it did.
I shake off the weird feeling of dread after another look around the empty street. There is no one there, and I am once again letting my paranoia get the better of me.
The dark sky lights up brightly with a flash of lightning, and I jump like a scared little girl, shaking in her boots over a small storm.
I miss the days where I could admire simple things like lightning while it flashed across the sky. I used to find it dangerously beautiful and couldn't help but always be curious about where exactly it was that each bolt struck down and what was left in its wake.
The goddamn end of the world has robbed me of even life's simplest of pleasures and pastimes.
I amble down the stairs, making sure not to step anywhere that will creak, and hop off without making noise. I sprint down the sidewalk and around the mud puddle. With all the weight on my back, I don't want to try and jump this time, no matter that it was a small one. With my luck, I wouldn't just get my foot wet but end up ass first in a puddle of dirty rain water.
A lonely drop, a small sprinkle really, lands on the tip of my exposed nose that I for once left uncovered from my bandana and I start running. This is just the beginning, I know it, the signal, my warning that time is up and I may have wasted too much of it on the roof collecting my heavy jugs of water.
My boots beat out a heavy and unpleasant tempo against the wet pavement as I run down the road. I need to get back to the bookstore before my clothes are soaked through. I have only the blankets that are on my makeshift bed, nothing more, and I don’t want to shiver uncontrollably through the night with no way to warm myself up or dry my clothes faster than naturally air drying them. And I am seriously afraid of getting sick.
The water jugs beat against my back unpleasantly with every step I make closer to home.
I turn a corner and cut through an alley I wouldn't normally take with the light getting darker by the minute. Those things like to hide out in the recesses of the dark until they hear something they think they can snack on, then they come bumbling out. I am really trying my luck by running down here.
Loud voices behind a turned over dumpster and a mound of garbage that smells worse than shit hai me skidding to a halt on my boots.
Shit!
I thought frantically. There are people down here, and, judging by the disgusting moans, there are also plenty of those ugly, rotting fuckers too. Normally, they carried their own stench that smelled of meat way past its sell by date, but I'm going to assume that the pile of garbage masked it this time.
A man screams and I back up a step at hearing it.
"Get it off me, man," a masculine voice shouts frantically.
Shit, shit, shit!
Not everyone can be saved nor are they worth risking your own life to try and save. This is a lesson I'd learned from Del, something she'd worked so hard to teach me, and it had stuck. My life came first, alw
ays. But that didn't make the decision to run away from people I might be able to help any easier. Life is so rare these days that it seems so damn wasteful to just turn my back and walk away.
I take another tentative step back, my boots scuffing along the dirty, garbage-filled ground.
"Is someone there?" a different male shouts. "Please, help us! I can't get this thing off my friend."
The raw desperation in his voice hurts my heart to hear and sends me spiraling back into the past where the sounds of another person’s screams and cries for help were all I could hear. My sister’s screams echo through my brain, almost as if they are mocking me. My mother’s horrific screams dance through my mind, hot on their trail.
I suck in a sharp, painful breath, and the rancid taste of garbage tiptoes across my tongue, making me gag.
"Help," the first male begs, making me flinch.
With trembling fingers, I pull on the rope tied to my backpack. I hurriedly untie the knots without having to look at them, and the jugs of water fall from my pack. They crash to the ground with a loud plop, and the screams in the alley behind the dumpster get louder at hearing it. They probably think another one of those things is coming to maul their faces off and eat their insides out.
Chances are high my water will be long gone before I can come back for it, and I’m grateful I had to leave most of it behind on the rooftop. Losing my entire supply of water would suck something fierce, and then I'd have to kick my own ass for giving a shit about people who mean nothing to me. Del would be so disappointed in me if she could see me right now.
I run forward while pulling one of my swords out from its secure holder strapped to my back underneath the pack. It releases with a soft shnick sound, and I'm standing behind a man who's bent over at the waist and stupidly beating and pounding his fists on the back of an animated corpse. A crunch sounds when he punches through its crusty back, and the man stumbles back with his hand held in front of his face in horror.
"Step aside, asswipe," I growl darkly.
This idiot is lucky he's survived this long. What the hell is he trying to do, beating on that fucker’s back of all places? Everyone with a pulse knows you need to go for the brain.
The man shrieks as he whips around and shakes his fist at me. If I were him, I would have been embarrassed by the noise that had left his lips.
He stares down the end of my blade and smartly shuffles to the side.
I lunge forward and shove my sword through the back of the rotting corpse’s brain, silencing it forever. The thing stills, and the man underneath rolls it off of him.
He jumps to his feet and lunges at the other man. His voice wavers furiously as he picks the other man up by the front of his dark hoodie and roughly shakes him.
I hold my sword aloft while backing away. I think it might be too early at this point to slide it back into its sheath, and I'm not willing to risk it. I’m also not going to stick around while these two have their little domestic dispute. I’m not interested in the problems of others, not when I have so many of my own.
I hastily back up while they argue.
"You little shit," the man hisses like an angry cat in the other's face that he holds aloft.
I study them curiously before shaking my head. That isn’t a man, but more like a young teenager. No wonder he sounded so scared and screamed like a girl.
"You, this is all on you. I told you to stay with the others, and you were too stupid to listen to me. I dropped my gun when I came after your sorry ass, and you stumbled into me." The man gives him a rough shake. "Then, you almost let that thing fucking eat me."
Gives a whole new meaning to dining out, I think snidely.
Wait, What?
My heart beats so fast that it threatens to beat right out of my chest.
Had he said others? There were more of them? Not good, really not good.
"Mmmrggggg," comes a disgusting moan from the other end of the alley.
The man drops his buddy to his feet and shoves him roughly behind him.
Something silver glints in a pile of garbage and I whistle. They both turn around as I raise my hand and pointe my finger at the gun they'd dropped. The man picks it up without hesitation while the teenager stares at me with wide eyes. The older one turns to face down the fuck face stumbling his way as I whip around and run for my water. I saved them. They weren't getting my damn water too. They can find their own.
Expertly, like I've done it hundreds of times before because I fucking have, I slide the sword back in its sheath without looking. It sinks home as I bend forward and pick the edge of the rope up off the ground. I heft the water jugs up and slump the rope over my shoulder while shrugging the jugs behind me.
I run away to the sound of a monster’s wails and a teenager crying out for me to stop and come back to them.
Gun shots ring out while I duck around another corner and in the opposite direction of home. I need to be extra careful here in order not to lead them right back to my food source and safe space.
I end up soaking wet, alone, and hiding behind a metal dumpster that reeks halfway across town.
I don’t sleep a wink.
But I do worry about catching pneumonia, and that thought scares the shit out of me.
Emerald
“Fucking morons,” I mumble, pacing the floor of the bookstore. Those airhead idiots might as well have rung the dinner bell for any undead fuckface within a few miles radius of us. I don’t know where they came from, but they need to go back. I’d really hate to stab them. Especially if they scream like little girls again. That shit’s just embarrassing.
It has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t seen another person with an actual pulse in months, let alone anyone close to my age like they are. It also has nothing to do with how attractive they are either. Nope. Neither of those things.
I yank at my hair as I let out a deep, silent sigh. I hid behind that stank ass dumpster until I heard a vehicle roaring down the road in their direction yesterday. I’d waited in the pouring rain until I was sure I wouldn’t be followed home. All was silent on the streets. The only sound came from the water dripping onto all the surfaces around me, but I still kept my guard up. Fictional books had taught me one thing that was more important than any of the survival advice ever could. When the world literally becomes hell on earth, when heaven gets so full that the dead take over, it’s not them that will be your biggest problem. All that remains of humanity will be wiped out. Moral compasses will be reset as easy as pushing a button. People will do whatever it takes to survive, and without anyone to keep them in check, they’ll even do things that aren’t for survival. Just like the only two humans I’ve ever killed. Not that they didn’t deserve that shit, but it still sucks me into a downward spiral when I think about it. We should be rebuilding and coming together to fight the undead. I guess everything can’t be as kosher as one of my books. That’s where all happy endings belong. In books. There’s no room for them in real life anymore.
With that dismal thought, I sink back onto my makeshift bed and cross my arms over my face. I wanted to go out again today, alas, here I sit with wet boots and rain still pounding on the roof. It might just be a blessing in disguise. There’s no telling if those fools are somewhere out there waiting for me to show my face again. I’ll be damned to hell if I let them get the drop on me so easily.
My thoughts roll through my brain and I have to smother my face with one of the pillows to contain my dark laughter. I’m already damned to hell. Things can always be worse. I’ve got food in my belly, a roof over my head, drying boots, and most importantly, a fucking pulse, but that quick interaction yesterday left me with an uneasy feeling in my gut. Just a small reminder of what I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
I toss the pillow back towards the wall and get up to make sure the store is secure before crawling back into my bed. Fuck it. I’m allowed to be depressed and stay in bed for a day. My agenda seems to be cleared for the next couple of days an
yways. Yet again.
Maybe I’ll raid a couple of dresser drawers or the clothing place down the street for some new underwear. Not that I don’t have a couple extra. It’s just never been on my list of necessities while going on supply runs. My wishful thinking from yesterday hitting me again, I decide yes. Some fresh, brand-new panties will cheer me right up. At that, I let sleep drag me under.
When I wake up, I don’t hear rain pounding the roof anymore. It could just be misting, but I’ve got a gut feeling that it’s gone for now. Sticking my hand in my boots confirms they’re still drying. As much as I really don’t want to put them on, I’m going stir crazy.
It would be absolute suicide to go on any runs even to collect any more water jugs. All the better anyways. I’m feeling completely unmotivated to do anything worthwhile that takes more brain power than singing my ABCs.
After yanking on four pairs of socks to keep my feet dry in my damp boots, I lace them up and make my way towards the ladder at the back of the store. One low moan bounces off the walls of the alley at the back door. It pulls me up short. This is my town, and keeping it clear of the undead, especially around my store, is a job I take pride in. To hear that sound, literally at my back door, makes me want to hunt down those idiots from the other night and cut off their trigger fingers. Maybe if they can’t shoot, the zombies can eat them faster for being incompetent.
That moan sounds out again and is joined this time by a gurgling noise. It’s not too much different than someone with a lung-full of liquid coughing. Covering my mouth helps to hold in the bile burning the back of my throat from my gag. I double-check the back door to make sure all is secure before silently making my way up.
