Dead Shelter Smashwords

by A. Rosaria

  Sarah got up. Her knees buckled and she fell flat. Her legs felt numb. She licked her dry lips. Water, she needed water. Sarah pulled herself to sitting. Breathing evenly, she gathered energy to try and stand again. She knew she had to leave the RV or be lost forever. Ralph had to be warned before he came back, before these creeps found him. They were not good guys and who knew what they would do to Ralph if they got their hands on him.

  Slowly, she rose to somewhere between squatting and standing; her face turned red with the effort. She breathed in deeply once more, willing herself to do it, and stretched herself straight. Her right leg and lower back cramped. She yelped out in pain, holding onto the wall to keep upright. Her chest heaved with every heavy breath. Her mind blank, pain having stopped all thought, she stood for a long moment and waited for the pain to subside and her muscles to relax so she could move again. It still hurt. A gnawing pain stung each time she put pressure on her feet or moved around.

  Sweat slid down her naked body, making her skin shine in the sunlight. The draft getting in sent shivers over her. She needed to put some clothes on fast, but before she did, she went to the small kitchen, shoving one foot forward after the other. Opening the cupboard, she took out a bottle of water. The water was warm but she didn‘t care. She gulped it down and coughed it back up. She drank slowly this time, not wanting to waste anymore water. It felt good, so good.

  Quickly, she put on sturdy green cargo pants and a black turtle-necked, woolen, long-sleeved blouse. She was tying her shoelaces when she heard the purr of an engine. They were still a distance away. She looked around the RV for anything she could use to defend herself, and below the driver seat she found a ten-inch steel wrench. It was heavy and would do. Wrench in hand, she left the RV.

  A black speck in the distance grew as it got nearer. She wasn‘t completely sure it was them. It could be other people, people who could help her out. The risk of her being wrong was far too high for her to stay put. The interstate ran through barren, hilly lands. There were few to no places to hide close by. She spotted the ditch running along the road; it was deep enough that if she kept close to the ground she wouldn‘t be seen from the road. She ran the distance. Panting, she jumped into the ditch. The engine sounded much closer now. She might still have a lot of running to do before this was over, and she wondered if she could do that being that she was already winded after such a short run.

  Sliding down the ditch, she fell flat on her belly. Puffing air out, exhausted, she wanted just to close her eyes and sleep. Maybe they would miss this spot and leave her sleeping in it undisturbed, but that was a pipedream. Grunting, she started crawling along the ditch, hoping she could get far enough and out of sight. She had to find somewhere she could safely hide.

  She heard car doors slamming. Daring a look, she saw a tall slender young man with curly blond hair enter the RV, followed by a stocky balding man. The young man was quite handsome, had he not been so creepy. The older man had a mean demeanor and looked the part better than the young one. Both were obviously bad men for wanting to take her with them like she was some lost thing they found. Sorry, but no finder‘s keepers with her, thank you very much.

  She crawled away. Not long after, she heard a door slam and cursing. She crawled faster, ignoring the burning sensation in her chest and aching muscles. She kept going. The van sped away. Great, they were searching for her on the interstate. Waiting until the engine noise disappeared, she stood up straight. Sarah sighed in relief, as she saw the van disappear over the hill.

  Something stirred behind her and she whirled around, holding her wrench high, ready to slam it down. She froze, staring at the barrel of a gun.

  “I would lower that,” the man with the raspy voice said.

  He was standing seven feet from her. One quick jump and swing of her wrench and she would be free. She could do it. He would barely have time to shoot her if she did it right. Once she was on him, she could bash his head in.

  His eyes narrowed while he stepped back. “What are you waiting for? Lower the wrench!”

  He took another step back. It urged her to move forward and match his steps, but she held and regretfully saw the distance increase between them and with it her chance to get to him.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  Another step back. This time she matched him.

  “Move one more time and I‘ll shoot.”

  It was more compulsion than will that made her take one more step forward. He gripped his gun tight and aimed. She dropped the wrench.

  “I should shoot you right where you‘re standing. Too bad my friend wants you for some reason. Types like you are only good on their backs with their legs up in the air.” As he said that, he spat on ground.

  His aim was as tight as it was before. Sarah looked to her sides. Nothing, only dry, tall grass and dirt. Standing in a ditch, he wouldn‘t even have to shovel a hole to bury her in if he decided to shoot her. She chuckled. It was funny thinking people would bury each other when a zombie apocalypse was going on. There were no cops to hide from, no investigations to fear. The law was as dead as the walkers. Funny how naïve she still could be. She chuckled again, making the man holding the gun look at her uneasily.

  “What‘s so funny, girl? You think this is a joke? That I won‘t kill your pretty ass right here, right now? I hate pretty fucks like you. I should teach you a lesson. Might take you down a notch.”

  His face was flushed with anger, and the gun in his hand swayed with his trembling hand.

  “Turn around!”

  Sarah hesitated, and the little smile she inadvertently had was long gone. Why couldn‘t she keep her thoughts focused? Look what it got her into. The man wasn‘t stable. To turn around might make it all worse than it already was.

  He took several steps closer, the gun now within feet and pointed at her forehead. “Turn the fuck around! Bitch!”

  It was now or never. She started turning, keeping her eyes on the gun, but before she lost sight of it, she turned fully around and slapped the gun away. The shot rang as he pulled the trigger, and the bullet went wide. She picked up the wrench from the ground and swung upward, hitting him under his chin. The blow threw his head back and made him stagger. He dropped to his knees, fell sideways, and stayed down.

  Panting, she supported herself with her hands on her knees. The wrench lay next to her on the ground. The guy in the van, Blondie, would be coming back eventually. She had little time to rest; if she wanted to stay alive, she had to keep moving. This time she had lucked out, for had she missed she would have been done for. No way would she have had the energy to fight past the first blow.

  She crept along the ditch, keeping her eyes out for any sign of the van or anyone else walking around. A hundred yards farther, she cocked her head. Some sound far off. She squatted out of view. Faintly, she heard the purr of an engine grow louder. He was coming back, quicker than she expected. Running while crouched, she covered as much distance as she could, looking for anything she could hide in. A bush, a hole, a tree. Nothing. The only bushes were dried out and the trees she saw were far away, their tops cropping out at the horizon with white mountain peaks rising up behind them, miles and miles away. No holes nearby either. The interstate sloped up a hill while the ditch veered off over an incline away from the interstate. It was about two hundred yards away. She could run the distance and make it in about two minutes. She stuck her head over the ditch; she heard the engine but didn‘t see the van yet. He would be coming over the hill any moment.

  She chose to run, keeping her eyes on the road at the top of the hill. Her heart raced in her chest. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her head warm and light, like any time now something would burst inside her and send her falling to death. She made it a hundred yards when she saw the tip of the van reach over the hill. She dove down, falling hard, hitting her knee on a piece of rock. Yelping out, she grabbed her knee, twisting on the ground, keeping a scream in, afraid of being heard. She stayed flat on her back,
holding her knee while waiting for the pain to subside.

  The van passed her and skidded to a stop. Sarah crawled up to look, her knee still pulsing pain. Blondie got out, frantically looking around. He yelled into a portable radio he held in his right hand. He paced aimlessly and yelled more. Angry, he clipped the radio back onto his belt. Sarah smiled as the scene played out in front of her eyes, glad she managed to throw a wrench into their schemes. She cursed herself for not being clear minded enough to take Raspy‘s gun. From this distance, she could have easily finished Blondie off and solved her problem.

  How easy it was to kill someone. The thought of doing that should hit a nerve, but it didn‘t anymore. Not a week ago, she thought it something impossible to contemplate and now she didn‘t feel a thing about having to kill Blondie. Giving him a stupid name, personalizing him, didn‘t make it more difficult for her. It freaked her out a little, but still it didn‘t diminish her desire to plug him a few. Besides, there was a real need for her to do so. He was after her.

  Blondie turned around. Raspy lurched up. A sly smile appeared on Blondie‘s face when he ran up to him and into the ditch. His lips moved, saying something smart probably, relief on his face. When they stood a few feet apart, the face of relief changed into one of utter horror. Raspy descended upon Blondie and bit his shoulder. Both men fell on the ground, struggling. Blondie cried out in pain and howled in terror. Bloodied, he stood up, staggered back with his gun in his hand, and started shooting. The bullets ripped through Raspy‘s chest and went straight through. Blondie took aim and the final shot blew the back of Raspy‘s head off, covering the air in a misty red. As the zombie crumbled to the ground, Blondie climbed out of the ditch and lay down on his back. He took a syringe out of his pocket and jammed it into his chest where his heart should be.

  Blondie stayed down, motionless. Now was her chance to kill him. He was defenseless, unconscious. However, her bloodlust had dissipated upon seeing the horror of Raspy turned into a zombie. In a way, she felt sorry for Blondie. It was obvious the man she had accidentally killed used to be a close friend of his. When she saw him panicking when his friend was lost, it was true worry she saw, and the relief on his face was real enough. She had killed her first living human being. She felt nothing.

  She got up and ran. Best put the distance between them and find Ralph. Blondie eventually might get up and continue the pursuit. She hoped he would just quit and leave. Next time, she might not hold back. Next time, she would cut his throat. She was sick and tired of being a plaything of fate. It was time she found some control over this mad situation, figure out what was going on with her, and figure out this odd feeling she had for Ralph. What she felt for him was different from how she had felt about Jake, and it was not just friendship. She knew that, because it was unlike her friendship with Lilly.

  Sarah shook her head. Her mind was a jumble. The past was the past; it was best to leave it as that. Her tears were already shed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Skip sat with his back leaning against a tree thick enough to give cover to his whole back. Ralph stood in front of him, watching him. The man, a child in mind, had his eyes shut and covered his ears with his hands. Ralph didn‘t know how to deal with this. The man was at least twice his age, big, and was dressed like a farmer without a shirt, exposing his rather large man boobs.

  “I can‘t take you back to your group. I need to be somewhere else, with someone who needs me more than you. You understand, don‘t you?”

  Skip fervently shook his head while pouting. Ralph would think it was funny if not for the situation they were in. Skip wanted him to escort him back to his group, which was camped a few miles from town. In fact, he wanted to go back through the town so he could find his way back. It was an insane thing to do, and beyond insane for him to contemplate giving in to his wishes. He had no obligation to help him; he had already helped him, and only gotten into trouble for it. Skip had saved him twice now, but only after being responsible for getting him into trouble in the first place.

  Ralph looked down at Skip while thinking about what to do next. Help him or ditch him? Get him safely to his group or seek out the medicine Sarah needed? It was no question really. It was clear what he had to do, but he didn‘t feel right about leaving him to fend for himself.

  “Skip, why not come with me? We could get you to your group later.”

  A shadow passed over Skip‘s face. He looked down at his feet as he got up. “No can do. I got to warn them.”

  Must have been the attack that spooked him. There was no real need for that. Their attackers were lying dead on the ground, eaten to the bone by now. However, time was running out for Sarah, maybe worse, time might already have run out for her. It was difficult to assess the situation she was in without the experience of a practiced nurse or doctor.

  “Look, Skip, I need medicine for Sarah, a friend of mine who is badly hurt.”

  Skip stared with empty eyes at him, playing dumb or being dumb, Ralph didn‘t know which, only that this look made his heart beat faster in a bad way. Behind his temples he could feel the beginning of a thumping that had all the signs of turning out to be a bitch of a headache.

  “She was bitten.” Why did he tell him this? It was obvious he wouldn‘t understand the implication. “She is sick with a fever, waiting for me to help her.”

  “Zombie chewed on her?” Skip‘s eyes grew large. “She‘s infected, but not turning, needs medicine, am I right?” Skip frowned and got up. Tapping his head with his index finger as he paced around, making Ralph feel nervous. It went on for a while when suddenly Skip whirled around with a big smile planted on his face.

  “I know now, I know.” He pointed to the town. “Frank knew. He told me the medicine we needed wasn‘t only at the hospital; it was also in other places. Places most people would never look. We were on our way to get some fish medicine.”

  Skip jumped up and down, chanting fish repeatedly as he hopped around, too excited to stand still. Ralph looked on, bemused, not knowing if he should get angry or feel sad. Sad for wasting so much time with this loon babbling about fish medicine. What good would medicine for fish do for a human? Two different species, physiology didn‘t mix well. Ralph cocked his head. Or did it? Something his father said on their last hunting trip. In a survival situation, if you ever got in a pinch, you could find many things you needed in pet stores, like food and medicine. No one would normally look for these things at a pet store so these places would most likely not be looted after a disaster.

  “What medicine?”

  Skip stopped hopping and gave him a questioning look.

  “Why did Frank call it fish medicine?”

  “Something called… ammo…ammozillian. Yes, ammozillian and penis…” Skip blushed. “Peniszillian,” he blurted out.

  Penicillin. Antibiotics, why hadn‘t he thought about this before? He had been so focused on the hospital and getting the medicine there that it had almost gotten him killed. The world had changed, and his way of thinking better quickly adapt or else he wouldn‘t survive for long.

  “Take me to this fish medicine place.”

  “No! Promise me you‘ll get me back to my group.”

  “I‘m really in a hurry. Sarah might die.”

  “Big man Matt got a car. He could take you back to Sarah.”

  Now he tells him they have a working car. Ralph sighed. “Okay, I promise. Now show me the place.”

  Skip nodded, left the cover of the bushes, went down the slope, and back out onto the road, heading toward the town. Ralph followed. As they walked, they kept quiet, for any sound could attract the zombies. Ralph hoped they had dispersed enough that they would not run into large mobs. It was safer and far easier to evade small pockets of zombies. Back in town, they kept to the shadows. Hunched over, they sprinted from cover to cover. Skip stopped every so often to look around, then he would nod and continue ahead or change direction.

  Nearing the spot of the battle, they saw a small group of zombie
s eating the remains of the bandits. The charred corpses of Frank and the woman were untouched.

  “Guess they don‘t like their meat roasted,” Ralph mumbled.

  Skip put a finger to his lips and whispered, “The bad dead guys might hear you.”

  He pointed at a building a ways beyond the mob of zombies. Ralph followed his finger to a brick building with large lettering on top WISE PET STORE. It would be just their luck that the pet store was in a part of town that had faced less destruction. It was still intact and remarkably the glass windows were not shattered, though one had a nasty crack running from top to bottom. The other buildings around the store and in close vicinity also seemed untouched. It was now that he was not being shot at or chased by zombies that he noticed the town was not completely destroyed as he had feared before. Guess the military didn‘t go all berserk on this one.

  To get to the store, they had to go through the mob or find a way around them. It didn‘t matter which they chose, if they wanted to get in via the front door, they would be seen. Ralph knew that these kinds of stores always had a back door. It was worth the gamble to try get in from the back if it meant they wouldn‘t be chased by the hungry flesh eaters.

  Ralph waved Skip to follow him. They ducked into an alley. The sunlight was swallowed by the shadow the tall walls made in between. Slowly, they moved ahead, testing their footing on the ground to make sure they didn‘t hit a can or a bottle or stumbled over the living dead. They exited the alley without incident. The street ran parallel to the one leading to the pet store. The next alley would lead back to it. They would have to cross the street unseen, go around the buildings, and take the alley, which led behind the store.

  Ralph grabbed Skip by the shoulder and pulled him back before he could cross the street. A lone zombie, dressed in a tight-fitting business dress with slim horn-rimmed glasses on, shuffled past them, dragging a broken foot and leaving a trail of blood and rasped meat behind where the bone stuck out of her skin and touched the asphalt. Once the distance between them and the zombie was great enough, Ralph sped out of the alley, pulling Skip with him. They took cover behind a car. No zombie saw them, and not wanting to increase the chance it might happen, they dashed from cover to cover before finally crossing the street to the alley leading to the back of the store.