Dead Shelter Smashwords

by A. Rosaria

  “What proof do you have?”

  Ralph rolled up his sleeve and exposed his bite wound on his forearm, the one his mother gave him, raised his hand so she could see the ball of his hand where Ginny bit him. He pulled his shirt down by the shoulder and showed the bite wound his father made.

  “Do I seem dead? I was bitten on the day of the outbreak. My mother, my father, my sister, they attacked me.”

  Tears welled in his eyes thinking about that day in Ginny‘s room. Both his parents had been alive and well, though her mother had kept it hidden that Ginny had turned. She killed his parents and he walked in on them as they turned, not knowing, never expecting. They bit him. The only remembrance he still had of them were his scars.

  “I had to kill my family. I didn‘t turn. We don‘t turn unless we die and some don‘t turn at all.”

  “I‘m sorry, so sorry.”

  She cried. Not surprising, every survivor had stories like his. Not a single one hadn‘t suffered a loss. He wasn‘t unique. It was a world filled with suffering, and it would stay that way until the day they managed to get rid of the zombie threat. Only then would future generations know a better world.

  “Skip,” Brenda said, “I didn‘t know. Please forgive me.”

  Skip didn‘t answer; he had dozed of. He lay on the ground, on his side, a dirty thumb stuck in his mouth, drooling. It was for the best. He probably missed half if not more of what went on around him.

  “I just met him, but he seems to be the forgiving kind. Don‘t worry too much about what happened. Under the circumstances, it is understandable. How else could you have known?”

  Brenda calmed down. With Skip dozing off, it was now time to find out what exactly had happened here. “Who attacked your camp?”

  Brenda sighed, averted her eyes to a distant tree. She stayed like this for a long moment. Ralph was about to give up on getting any answers when she started talking.

  “They plowed right through the tents in a flatbed. Caught us by surprise. Ramona, Jimmy, and I were playing. There was no way we could get out of their way in time. They drove right over Jimmy.”

  Fighting back her tears, she said, “They got out and started shooting. Got Ramona in the head. I ran to her, thinking I could save her, but I was too late. I shot the one who killed Ramona, a boy with freckles. He couldn‘t be much older than me. He looked at me, surprised. I still remember those large eyes, questioning, not believing he was dying. I shot him again and again. I kept pulling the trigger until they shot me in my shoulder. I wanted to keep fighting, kill them all. I wish I could, but my mother dragged me away and pushed me into some bushes and begged me to stay there.”

  Brenda couldn‘t keep them in anymore and broke out crying. Between sobs, she told him that she had stayed hidden for hours and saw how they captured her mother. The only one left alive besides her. Next, they chopped up all the bodies and loaded them on the flatbed. A young, tall, slender man walked around giving orders. She only came out of hiding when she heard Ralph coming up the trail, thinking it was the attackers coming back for her.

  Ralph gave her some time to collect herself. He wanted to hug her, tell her everything was okay, that all would turn out all right, but he couldn‘t because it was a lie. Nothing would be all right, not for a long time. Besides, he didn‘t know how to comfort a total stranger and he felt bad for that. She seemed like a nice person, thrown into circumstances that were less than ideal. To make it worse, if the woman who had been captured was the same one who got shot when he rescued Skip, then it must be that much harder for her. Brenda stopped sobbing and looked around with sad eyes, not finding a place to rest them.

  “Why didn‘t you shoot me?”

  “I don‘t know. You didn‘t seem like a bad guy, but neither did that guy who shot Ramona. I just don‘t know. I think it‘s just hard to pull the trigger and shoot someone in cold blood.”

  “Well I‘m glad you didn‘t.”

  “So am I.” Brenda smiled. It changed her face from a sad girl to that of one full of life. A beautiful smile that regretfully only altered her face for a short moment. The weight of the world was too heavy to keep such a smile. It gave Ralph a hint of what kind a person she was before this all happened. The remaining apprehension he felt for her melted away.

  Ralph stuck his hand out. “I‘m Ralph, eighteen years old, from Mattison, pleased to meet you.”

  She graced him with that smile again and shook his hand. “Brenda Allando, fifteen, from San Francisco.”

  She was far from home. He wondered what she was doing in the middle of nowhere. Considering what happened to his hometown, the largest one in the vicinity, he feared that a city like San Francisco might have suffered a similar fate or worse. For all he knew, towns and cities were a thing of the past. Razed or completely destroyed in the military campaign to contain the zombies. It was crazy really, difficult to fathom and explain.

  She looked younger; being short didn‘t help there, though the seriousness with how she carried herself when not smiling made her appear older. With the common pleasantries done with, and not wanting to prod deeper on what she was doing so far from home, he instead returned to what he needed to tell her so that he could go back to Sarah.

  “I need you to take care of Skip for me. Do you think you can you handle that?”

  Not waiting for an answer, he handed her one bottle with penicillin. “I‘m not sure how much you have to give him, but for now, give him another one in six hours, earlier if he seems to get worse.”

  “But, why are you leaving?”

  He told her about Sarah, about the bite, the infection, how he left her behind in the RV to search for medicine. How, while being in a hurry, he still agreed to accompany Skip to his camp in the hope he could use the car they had. And now, with no choice left, he had to seek another one in a town they just escaped. She listened silently, allowing him to finish without asking questions. Questions he could clearly see she had by her increasing frown and biting of her lip. She waited until he was finished.

  “What will you do after?”

  He had not thought about that. So far, his thoughts didn‘t stray far past his objective—getting Sarah better. But what would he and Sarah do after? Continue their original plan, going on the interstate to the building project where he met Norm? Their idea had been to use one of those houses as a hideout. Those houses were abandoned and unfinished, and without an established community living there or nearby, there would not be any reason for the military to hit those buildings. They would still be standing undisturbed. And most likely only he and Norm knew about the place. It would be perfect for now, secluded, and rather safe, but things had changed. He had met other people.

  “I don‘t know.”

  “Won‘t you come back?”

  Another thing he had not thought about. Helping Skip had always felt like a temporary thing. He would drop him off with his group and say his goodbyes. Now, he felt a little responsible for him. And Brenda being young, it didn‘t feel okay to leave her alone in the care of an older man who was ill and not all there in the head. Really, he had only considered him and Sarah surviving together, for she was the only one he could really trust. He trusted Sarah with his life. And joining another group was not only for him to decide, but he could not leave Skip and Brenda stranded like this.

  “If you care to join us, I‘ll come back for you two.”

  Brenda shook her head. “I thought more like you would join us.”

  Wasn‘t that the same? Was she being coy with him? He looked from Brenda to Skip and back to her. No, she looked as if she was being serious. It was no joke.

  “Join, the two of you?”

  “No, not just the two of us. We are part of a much larger group. We were out scavenging for medical supplies, food, and other survivors. The idea was that we would settle somewhere and fortify ourselves. Alone it is difficult to survive, together we stand a better chance. What do you say, would you care to join?”

  “How many are y
ou?”

  “About fifty.”

  He had not seen such a large group of people since the dead started walking, and never expected to see so many people together again. For people to start grouping together, he would have never imagined that happening so soon. He thought people would to be too selfish, thinking only of their own survival. In a short span of time, he had been confronted with banditry and senseless killings. He would not have expected to meet a large group of people willing to work together for a common goal. He would like to be a part of that. Maybe among other humans he would retain his humanity better, and so would Sarah.

  “Okay, I‘ll come back to check, but I‘m not sure yet if I‘m going to join your group. I‘ve got to discus this with Sarah first.”

  Brenda touched his forearm. “I understand that. Do what you need to do.”

  He pressed the gun in her hand. “This is yours; keep it. You might need it more than I.”

  She tried to give it back to him, but he had no need for it, and it was hers to begin with. He didn‘t accept the gun back. Ralph grabbed his frying pan. That would do well enough. It would be hard to miss a zombie‘s head with this pan, and its weight would bash in any heads it came in contact with.

  “Take care of Skip.”

  They said their goodbyes and he walked away, disappearing behind the foliage as Brenda looked on, still waving at him. He was on his way back to that miserable town with so many deaths. Back for a last time he hoped.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sarah crawled into the ditch where she had her struggle with Raspy and found the gun lying on the ground next to the wrench she had used to hit him. A gun should be enough, but she also grabbed the wrench. It had already saved her once and might be useful again. At least she didn‘t need bullets to use it and it made a lot less noise than a gun. Wrench tucked between her belt and gun in hand, she approached the wrecked van. Sarah pointed the gun at the motionless figure on the ground as she got closer. She glanced through the van‘s driver window. There was nothing of note inside, though she would have to search it thoroughly later. First, she had to secure Blondie.

  His chest went up and down in an even rhythm, and there was no sign of him turning or infection. Whatever he injected himself with must have saved him. Saved him from the zombie virus, but not from her. She grabbed him by his hair and dragged him to the RV. For a tall man, he was not that heavy, but it was a chore for her. She had only been well for a short time and her strength had not returned yet. The first few feet, she pulled him by the hair, but didn‘t work for long. She pulled out some of his hair. If she kept at it, he end up bald. She grabbed him under his shoulders and lifted his upper body from the ground, foot by foot she went, resting every so often. Eventually, she got him to the RV. She was sweating, breathing heavily, and starting to feel dizzy.

  Blondie‘s right hand twitched. It would not take long now for him to wake up. She grabbed rope from the RV and tied his hands behind his back. No way she could lift or drag him into the RV. She sat on the ground a distance from him, the gun on her lap, waiting for him to wake up. It didn‘t take long. He shifted his body and his eyes fluttered open. He looked at the sky, uttering curses. Trying to sit up, he noticed his hands were tied. Wildly, he looked around and saw the gun pointed at him. Sarah smiled and stood up.

  “The hunter captured by the prey, how karmic fitting.”

  “Fuck you, bitch! You killed Richard!”

  So that was Raspy‘s name. “What was he? Your lover? No? Not your lover, a friend, then? Brother in crime?”

  He glared at her. The way his eyes flashed she knew he was containing his rage. Were she to release him, she was sure he would kill her. The roles, luckily, were reversed. He wasn‘t the one holding all the cards now. For once she wasn‘t the one being thrown about without any say, the one who had to flee. She was sick and tired of that, and relished in this moment that she rose above being the victim.

  “Cat got your tongue? Well, for your information, I killed Richard because he tried to kill me. It was a clear-cut case of self defense.”

  Blondie spat at her; his spit made a neat arch in the air and hit the dirt in front of her feet.

  “Oh, Blondie, Blondie, why so angry? I thought you were this calculated guy who would understand the situation. Did you really think I would give in so easily, that I would let the likes of you have their way with me? You got the wrong girl. Now get inside the RV before I decide shooting you is a better option.”

  The venom in his eyes would have killed her a thousand times over if it could. However, she could care less how he felt. She knew if she wanted she could end him right here and now. She wished he would resist, make it difficult for her, so she had a reason to pull the trigger and feel the powerful kickback of the gun, hear the thunder of the shot, and see the bullet ripping flesh and bones. He deserved it; one look at the man was enough to realize this. The arrogant way he had handled himself while she was sick. The air of indignation over being taken captive, as if such a thing was preposterous. The way he had addressed her when she was in and out of consciousness. His talk of body parts. There was no redeeming factor here. Being tall, slender, and good-looking wasn‘t enough to redeem the filth that festered behind that beautiful package. No, she despised all Blondie stood for.

  He must have sensed her bloodlust because he stood without further complaints or insults, walked up the steps leading into the RV, and sat down on the bed. Holding the gun aimed at him, she sat in the chair at the narrow dining table, a good six feet from him. He could try and get to her, and succeed, but with his hands bound, it would be a battle he would lose. Blondie didn‘t seem like he would try. He sat hunched over, staring at his feet, all defiance gone. Sarah wondered how much was just show; she wasn‘t going to be stupid and believe he would give up so easily.

  “What were your plans for me?”

  He chuckled instead of answering her.

  “Hey, Blondie, you better answer my questions.”

  “The name is Anton Morgan.”

  “I did not ask you for your name, Blondie. Why did you want to take me captive?”

  “Isn‘t it obvious?”

  He was seriously pissing her off. Gripping the gun tighter, she raised it and held it aimed at his head. No, that would be too easy, and she didn‘t want to clean up the mess in the RV. She got up and opened the kitchen drawer and grabbed the sharpest thing she saw, a steak knife. She turned to face him, a wicked smile growing on her face.

  “You better answer me.”

  “I don‘t thi—”

  She rammed the knife into his leg and left it there. Blondie cried out in pain, thrashing on the bed, trying to get his hands free.

  “Pull it out of me! Goddamn bitch, just do it!”

  “I‘ll pull it out once you start answering me. And from now on, you better watch your tongue with me, or else I may cut it out.”

  The young man gritted his teeth, powerless to do anything to mend his injury. He was completely at her mercy and she liked it that way.

  “So, I‘ll ask again.” Sarah took another steak knife from the drawer. Dangling it in her hand, she continued, “Why capture me?”

  Blondie looked at her silently, his face reddening with the effort to contain the pain. She sighed and moved toward him, placing the knife at his throat, pressing its jagged edge in, and drawing blood where it pierced the skin.

  “Okay, okay, I‘ll talk.”

  Sarah pulled back, smiling. She had not smiled so much since the world collapsed. It was a good feeling that for once she was getting ahead instead of always falling behind and down with no end in sight. Finally, she was crawling out of that hole and at the point of at least learning some truth about everything going on.

  “You‘re the first infected person we found who didn‘t turn. Instead, you had a normal infection from your bite wound, which probably still would have killed you if we had not intervened.”

  Again anger flashed in his eyes and he lost some of his composure. �
��We saved your ass, and this is the thanks we get. You killed my friend, you injured me, and now you keep me captive to torture me. What‘s wrong in us wanting to check out why you survived? Answer that, bitch!”

  She answered him all right. Sarah slapped his face, rocking his head sideways. Next, she grabbed the knife‘s half sticking out his leg and twisted it. Blondie howled out in pain.

  “Mind your manners. You never asked me if I wanted to be your guinea pig.”

  “You weren‘t in any state to answer anything,” he cried out.

  He had not told her anything that she hadn‘t deduced for herself. She should ask more, dig deeper for the real motives, the whoever was behind it all. It couldn‘t possibly be him alone. Blondie had told her before about it being a miracle that he found her, bitten and not turned, and he had helped her with the IV. However, the way he had talked to her hinted at no real niceties. Raspy had been more frank with his dislike for her. It was clear from the start that she was nothing to them other than a specimen to be checked on. Besides, it was a lie that she was not able to answer any questions. Blondie did nothing other than ask question after question, taunting her for answers. A lie she would allow to pass for now.

  “Why research me?”

  “For a cure.”

  “I saw you inject yourself with something and you aren‘t turning after a bite.”

  “That‘s not a cure.”

  “So what is it?”

  “Something temporally, only combats the symptoms. We need to find something more permanent.”

  “Who is this ‘we’ you keep talking about?”

  He examined her face for a long time. Feeling uncomfortable, Sarah decided to put a stop to him staring at her; her hand was inches away from the knife when he answered.

  “We are a group of independent researchers holed up in a small facility. We got together to find a cure. However, we got only as far as producing a temporary solution, a little too late to save the world.”

  Something didn‘t add up. Sarah couldn‘t really point out what made her doubt him. It could be the way Blondie talked, lacking any emotion. His eyes did not change, did not quiver. He was talking about the end of the world as if he didn‘t really care.