I really want to sleep first before leaving, but I don’t trust the area. I don’t want to box myself in either if someone comes by – it’s hard to trust the living too. I’ll just get out of here first and drive down the main road to the east and south until I find a place I can hole up in for a night or two. Or even a place I can park in for a time. I’m ok sleeping in here. There’s plenty of room.
Leaving the door to the SUV open, but taking the bat along just in case, she reached for the rope pulley and manually released the garage door. It rumbled open exposing the empty driveway and street. Quickly, before any zombies shambled to investigate the noise, Jaimee climbed in the vehicle and put it into reverse. A few undead lumbered in view as she turned onto Mission Boulevard. She weaved around the moving corpses, some burnt-out vehicles and debris while continuing to the east.
Switching on the radio, she made it scan for a signal: nothing but static came over the FM frequencies. One station came through on the AM dial: a Spanish language channel.
Damn, serves me right for not paying attention in class. Never learned the language other than basic words. I can’t make out what they’re saying at all. They sound panicked – that’s not surprising, she grimaced.
Her hand paused over the off button and dropped a few seconds later, leaving it on. Living human voices, even in a different language, was of some small comfort. She wondered how far away the signal came from.
An hour later, she detoured onto a different road due to a large accident including many burnt out vehicles that blocked further progress straight ahead. There were signs indicating a nature park nearby. Jaimee decided to drive and find out if it was a safe place to curl up and take a badly needed nap in the back of the car. Her eyes kept threatening to close and she would rather not sleep along a main road. That choice was too out in the open – too exposed. Following the signs, Jaimee eventually arrived at the park.
The nature center spanned a large expanse around the Santa Ana River, which included areas to park cars under eucalyptus and palm trees. There were some undead pushing through tall reeds in the river, but they were far enough away where Jaimee felt relatively safe parking on the far side of the dirt lot in a shady spot. After taking care of personal necessities, she shut and locked all the doors, and created a pillow with her pack. Both seats in the back of the vehicle folded down and gave her a large area to lie down. Jaimee hugged her bat close and placed a handgun within easy reach before resting her head and weary eyes.
Sleep came quicker than expected.
Chapter Three
Strands of fairy lights and illuminated decorations covered the buildings, giving them a golden glow. Voices of carolers rang out in the cold night air. I walked hand in hand with her through a German-style holiday market in downtown and purchased an ornament for our tree at home. It was early December, before the frantic holiday rush when people were still somewhat civil to one another in person, although not while competing for parking spaces. I sipped on a scorching hot cup of salted caramel and watched couples stroll along the main street of town.
We both sat on an old bench, cuddling close together for the warmth of each other’s bodies, watching the twinkling lights. The bench swayed as if built on rockers. That didn’t make sense because it was a solid metal and stone bench. But, it moved back and forth again. Something wasn’t right. I reached out as she disintegrated before my eyes, melting into the bench. I tried to stand up and back away, but rocked backward by the strange movement of the seat.
Jaimee awakened with a violent jerk in the back of the SUV. Sunlight streamed through tree branches and into the back windshield. She did not know exactly how long she slept; it looked like early in the morning - probably the following day. The car jostled slightly up and down, the same movement that pulled her out of a dream. A gurgling hiss came from one side of the vehicle. Jaimee turned to see a decomposing, walking corpse pushing its face and arms against a side window, trying to get inside. Peering into the distance, she saw other undead shuffling through the park, a few attracted by the noise the rotting bag of flesh made while pushing against the vehicle.
“Time to go.” Jaimee shrugged and crawled into the front seat. The engine caught and she threw the SUV into reverse, leaving the zombie to stumble to the ground. Turning the car, Jaimee left the fairly peaceful nature center behind. Unsure what she was looking for, a safe spot to call home or supplies and food to help her along the way, Jaimee kept driving.
The dream disturbed her – thoughts of girlfriends of the past and idyllic times long ago, never to return ran through her thoughts. Everyone she cared about was gone; either eaten by the undead, or instead, becoming one of them and having to be killed. She even missed the doomed group she traveled with in the early days of the madness, while trying to escape LA. Not that she became attached to any of them, but she missed human contact.
Sometimes, I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s too hard alone. She struggled internally. On the other hand, it’s easier to stay alive solo. Less stupidity to deal with and you’re only responsible for one person – yourself.
Even so, Jaimee thought if she ran across someone who was not out to kill her outright for the meager supplies she carried, she might join forces with them.
A bridge lay ahead, a graceful, white bridge spanning the Santa Ana River heading towards the city center past parkland. The road was lined with light poles capped with mission ‘bells’ wrought in stone topped with a cross with an additional horizontal stroke through it. Jaimee briefly took in the beauty of the bridge and concentrated on weaving past debris and abandoned cars. There were a few times she thought she may have to abandon the car or back up to find another way across the river, but was able to use part of the SUV to push through the autos to widen the narrow openings. After crossing the river, trees and bushes lined the road as it wound its way around parks and old Victorian homes.
Guiding the car, Jaimee let the streets make the decision where to turn, keeping to the roads that were the most clear and navigable. Palm trees interspersed with the deciduous variety to each side. Passing through a burnt out business district, the area changed to fenced orange groves on the left across the street from older homes. Navel oranges grew unpicked in the field. Jaimee turned the car to the left and parked up onto the curb.
University of California; Riverside. Jaimee read the top of the sign denoting the fields were agricultural experiments of students attending the University. Well, I don’t think they would mind me picking a few at this point. Fresh fruit!
Grabbing the bat, an empty bag and slipping the rifle over one shoulder, she cautiously exited the vehicle and hopped a low fence. Pausing after picking a few, she listened for anything more than the rustling of leaves. Resisting the urge to split one of the fruits open with her fingernails where she stood, Jaimee returned to the car carrying at least a dozen ripe oranges. Not wasting any time securing the car door, she settled inside and sliced into the rind with a plastic knife she took from the canteen in the police station days before. Sticky juice rolled down her fingers and wrist as she bit into the orange. The burst of natural sweetness reminded her of other divine juices, one she worried she would never taste again.
Evening found her cruising up a gentle incline lined with spruce and palm trees. A strange combination, but one she found beautiful. The area was mainly residential, full of apartments, condominiums and expensive homes. A large, western stylized, shopping center served as a central focus to the area, one where Jaimee planned on searching. However, at the moment, the building the car now sat in front of her must take priority.
“Maybe, just maybe, this could work.” She mused aloud. “I have to clear it, but a fire station. That might just be perfect. Beds, showers, kitchen, secure doors and it’s just down the street from that shopping center. Lots of homes around to raid too.”
Done. This is a great place to hole up in. The sun is going down though. I’ll have to wait until morning to start removing any undead shuf
fling around in there. Watching the station until dusk deepened, Jaimee allowed herself to feel a slim ray of hope as she settled in for the night in the back of the SUV thankful that she survived another day.
Morning dawned, the sun painting high clouds pink in the eastern sky. A skittish tabby cat raced across the driveway chasing prey or maybe fleeing something that startled it. Jaimee waited until the sun was a finger’s width above the horizon then exited the vehicle carrying nearly all her supplies and weapons in a backpack, satchel and stuffed in pockets. The trusty softball bat in one hand, a handgun tucked behind the belt against the small of her back, another in an easy to reach side pocket of the satchel and the rifle slung behind underneath the backpack. Both the bay doors of the fire station sat closed on both sides of the building. One loitering zombie wandered around the back of the yard and began to growl when it sensed Jaimee approaching. It was missing its eyes, but swiveled around to face her general direction as she stepped towards it and flattened the creature’s head with two swings of the bat. A chest high, stucco wall surrounded the back yard with a rolling gate securing driveway access into it. Moving the gate aside, she double-checked to see if any more undead roaming the back half of the property.
Apprehensive, Jaimee took deep breaths to calm her nerves. The firehouse represented the best opportunity since the world went to hell for protection and perhaps a permanent place to live. She knew she had to clear it out without getting bit or majorly injured. Independent as she was, Jaimee knew it was hard to recover from grievous injury alone.
Of course, if I’m bit, its lights out. Jaimee shuddered as she recalled watching people ‘turn’ after death into one of the walking dead. I’d rather stay dead, thank you very much.
After finding the front access door firmly locked, she found two others on the side of the bay open. Listening at one and waiting for a few moments, Jaimee took a few steps inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dimly lit bay. Light filtered in from high-set windows along the top of the bay doors. The bay sat empty, the trucks and emergency vehicles probably now stuck permanently out in the city.
I have to investigate every corner, every pile of junk and clothing as I go through this place. Leave nothing to chance. I don’t want to end up like that family I hooked up with in LA. Jaimee recalled the group attempting to secure a department store. They overlooked what seemed to be a pile of harmless trash and clothing in a corner of the store. That ‘pile’ shifted and attacked as the fresh meat walked by, biting and infecting nearly all of them. She escaped with a few others unscathed, but only just. Lesson learned.
Securing the bay, she closed and secured the two side doors before looking at equipment rooms and gear areas. No zombies yet, but she made sure not to drop her guard. A few sets of personal protection gear hung in one room while some oxygen tanks and masks were stowed in another. Most of the gear was gone, along with the missing firefighters out there trying to save the world against an invasion of creatures that looked like they could not be beat. She respected them for trying, but it all seemed futile.
A room next to a door leading to the living and office area of the station contained medical supplies. There were still plenty of supplies inside for injuries and minor treatment, even though much looked to be missing from the room.
Bringing her flashlight out, she prepared to open the door. Turning the knob and stepping back, she flicked on the light to see a short hallway in front and three doors to the right, left and straight ahead. The door on the left was closed as well as the one ahead but not to the right. Labeled kitchen and partially opened, something moved in the room behind it. Slow moving and shuffling with light enough coming in from beyond them to cast a faint shadow. Turning off the flashlight and stowing it temporarily, Jaimee readied a gun and hefted the bat before sliding down the hall to get a better angle of view into the room. Not one, but two hissing corpses lunged at her throat to quickly for her to bring the bat around more than to prod and hold them a few feet away. Panicking, she nearly dropped her handgun in the struggle to keep the deadweight of two bodies away. Bracing against the wall, she shoved forward and brought up the gun, firing point-blank into one creature’s head; then she shifted her aim in time to catch the other in between the eyes with a second shot, acrid blood and gore splattering. For someone who had lived with a world gone silent, the gunshots seemed deafening to Jaimee and she sorely hoped the sound did not bring any unwanted attention or too many more undead. From past experience, they liked to hone in on loud noises.
Stepping into the room, Jaimee noted one window on the opposite side of the wall and two doors on either side past a kitchen area. The open floor plan used a moderate sized space attached to the kitchen with sofas, recliners, a dining area, a TV and computer station. Jaimee dispatched one more zombie crawling along the tiled floor before shutting the door she just entered. Eventually, she knew that the decaying bodies must be dragged out of the building if she was going to take up permanent residence, but Jaimee intended on clearing the fire station out completely before making it a livable space. In the meantime, the gore and stench had to stay.
Several hours and a few bullets later found Jaimee dragging the last of the rotting corpses across the street to roll down a short embankment out of sight. A few new undead straggled up the street in the firehouse’s direction, probably attracted by the gunshots, but Jaimee had enough time to move the corpses, park the SUV behind the station and retreat into safety. They would no doubt hang around for quite some time, but eventually disperse. If not, Jaimee planned to eradicate any zombies in front of the building on a daily basis, if possible, to keep their numbers under control.
The layout of the firehouse pleased Jaimee. For the most part, it was one story except for a windowed loft area set above the day room beyond the kitchen. Those windows opened over the front of the station without the risk of opening doors on the lower floor, making it safer to kill off any danger, sniping from a high viewpoint. The large, rolling doors to the apparatus bay stood firmly shut. Two doors led out to the side of the bay and there was the one main front door. A final door opened to the back of the station on the other side of the wall from an area with open office space. It led to a walled enclosure with a small metal gate that housed a back-up generator.
“Wow, there’s still actually fuel in this thing.” Surprised, Jaimee resealed the cap to the generator. “The only problem is noise. If I ever run the damn thing, I’ll have to wade through a ton of undead if they get by the back fence.”
Returning inside, Jaimee braced all doors with chairs and other equipment to add a layer of security against interlopers of the dead and living kind. One hour of daylight remained as Jaimee spread out her food supplies in the kitchen. Not much remained.
“I’m going to have to go out tomorrow and start searching for more food. This is only enough for two meals, if that. If you can call chips, candy bars and salty nut mixes meals.” Shaking her head, Jaimee placed food in the cupboards and was happy to find some cans of soup and eating utensils. Nothing sharper than a butter knife though. Nothing that could also double as a weapon.
In the bunkroom, she found a radio, a few articles of clothing, which were mostly too large for her frame, and toiletries. The faucet in the kitchen worked, and the toilets near the room flushed. Desperately, she hoped the showers functioned. It seems like years since she was able to take a proper shower, and bathing from a sink just did not satisfy the need to be clean. Jaimee grinned when she checked the plumbing as clear water burst from the showerhead. Turning it off to preserve what little warm water may still be available, she hastily stepped around the corner to the laundry with towels, to grab one and a bar of soap. Even if the water turned out to be cold, she did not care. The chance to be truly clean was a luxury Jaimee thought she would never have again. It seemed like the building still had water pressure. So far, there was no interruption to that particular utility here.
Placing the towel nearby, she turned on both knobs, adjusting the tem
perature enough to be comfortable, but conserving the warm water in an attempt to make it last. She did not have a clue as to when the water heater may stop working and Jaimee intended to stay here for as long as possible. She also wondered how long the water pressure would keep up under the circumstances.
A low moan escaped her lips as warm water cascaded through Jaimee’s hair, down her neck and over her filthy body. Picking up the bar of soap, she circled it slowly around her shoulders, and down to her chest. The water was not hot enough to emit steam, but the warmth hitting the back of the neck relaxed her and brought back thoughts of taking mutual showers with Cathy, Rosemary and many others. Jaimee smiled and moved the soap to her chest, teasing her nipples. The bar traveled down to her waist, buttocks and thighs, slowly rotating and arousing. Sighing, Jaimee shook her head and absentmindedly scrubbed the soap vigorously; working the lather and watching stubborn dirt roll from her body.
Daydreaming, Jaimee recalled the last shower she took with Cathy not too long ago.
*****
Seventeen Days Ago
Knocking gently on the bathroom door, Jaimee asked, “Can I come in?”
After a muffled, positive response, she walked into the restroom and gazed at Cathy under the showerhead pulling her hair back to rinse suds from her scalp. The water ran down her curves and straightened out her wavy hair, making it a dark bronze. She caught Jaimee looking at her with a glazed over look in her eyes and beckoned. Forgetting what she initially needed to come inside for, Jaimee instead peeled off her clothing, discarding them on the floor as she slid open the glass shower door.
Still Alive: A Lesbian Love Story in an Undead World Page 4
